The Winchester Way
by Dean's Dirty Little Secret
Summary: Dean doesn't let anybody close, not since Lisa. So when he starts to fall for Amie, a hunter the boys have worked with in the past, everything changes. Now he must contend not only with monsters, demons, and rogue angels, but he also has to figure out what to do about his growing feelings for this woman. (Multi-chapter/M rating for language/graphic sex.) Dean x OC. Please review!
1. Chapter 1

**_*Disclaimer: _**_I own nothing related to the show, just a fan, inspired to write. I do own Amie, she is my own creation._

**_**Spoilers: _**_Story is set during season 9, with flashbacks to end of season 7. I tried to stay true to canon, but story may drift AU at times. _

**Chapter One**

"God dammit, Dean, stop squirming!"

Amie was very aware of the fact that she was closer to Dean than she had been in months. She was straddling him, his right leg between her legs, her knee resting on his inner thigh. Her left hand was pressing his shoulder back as he tried to sit up in the crappy motel room chair.

"What are you doing?" she asked harshly, her frustration showing in her voice.

"Just let me get the whiskey. You're practically tearing me apart!" Dean growled.

Amie straightened up with a sigh, letting the hand holding the thick needle and thread drop to her side. "Maybe if you stopped wiggling around and let me finish stitching you up, you wouldn't feel that way. I'm almost done, just a couple more stitches and I'll let you go."

"I should have just done it myself. Or let Sam do it," Dean whined, "you're kind of mean."

Amie heard a laugh coming from one of the motel beds, where Sam was laying with an ice pack pressed to his head. "Then you'd end up with twice as many stitches, since I'm currently seeing double. Quit being a baby and let her finish." Sam sighed and laid his arm across his eyes.

"I'm not a baby, you're a…baby. Baby." Dean grabbed the whiskey bottle off the table and took a long pull. Once he had enough, he set it back down. "Alright, go ahead."

Amie pushed Dean back in his chair, straddling him once more. She took a deep shaky breath. She hated doing this more than anyone, especially Dean, knew. Pushing a thick needle through the sensitive skin near Dean's collar bone, watching the blood run down his chest, seeing the skin pull taut as she stitched up his wound, it all made her stomach turn. She steadied herself and leaned in to finish. She had no other choice, Sam probably had a concussion and Dean couldn't stitch up his own shoulder, at least not the right side. She tried to be as gentle as possible, not wanting to cause Dean any more pain than necessary. Amie wasn't as mean as Dean claimed.

"Okay, I'm done. You can squirm all you want now." Amie set the medical supplies down and grabbed her bottle of water from the table. She brushed her hair back from her face, wincing as she touched the raised abrasion on her temple. She started to back away from Dean, but he grabbed her waist with his left hand, his fingers sliding under the edge of her t-shirt and brushing the skin above the waistband of her jeans.

"Thank you. Sorry I was being, you know, squirmy." Dean's hand tightened a little bit on her waist as his green eyes flashed.

"Umm, yeah, you're welcome," Amie whispered. She tried to pull away, but Dean wouldn't let go and he wouldn't stop staring at her, like he was trying to tell her something without speaking. Just then, Sam cleared his throat, breaking the mood, whatever it was.

Dean reluctantly released Amie's waist and she backed away from him, feeling a tinge of regret when she broke contact.

"What about you, Sam? Do you need anything?" Amie inquired of the inert form on the bed. She backed farther away from Dean and started cleaning up the blood-stained gauze from the motel kitchen table. She needed distance to catch her breath.

Sam tried to sit up and failed. "Just some water, if you don't mind," he said. He sighed and fell back, putting his arm across his eyes again.

"You're as stubborn as your brother. Just stay there," Amie grumbled. She caught Dean grinning at her out of the corner of her eye. He really needed to quit doing that, it was distracting.

Amie grabbed a water bottle from the refrigerator and moved toward Sam. She needed to sit down, her legs felt like they would give out at any minute. The fight with the Wendigo had taken a lot out of her, but since she was the least wounded, she was trying to suck it up until she got to her own room. Of course, if Dean hadn't tried to play hero and shoved her out of the way, she would be the one being stitched up right now. Probably by Dean. Dean touching her skin, breathing against her shoulder as he worked on her, his strong hands on her body…. Amie quickly shut down that thought and turned back toward Sam.

"Are you sure you don't need a hospital, Sam?" she asked for the second or third time.

Sam shifted slightly, wincing as he did. "No, I'm fine. I just need some Advil and a nap. And for someone to turn off the damn lights. They are hurting my head." Sam peered out from under his arm, squinting at Amie.

"If you're trying to use the puppy-dog eyes on me, it's not working. I can't see your eyes." Sam laughed quietly. Amie moved across the room, turning off the overhead lights as she passed the switch. She reached into her backpack and pulled out a bottle of Advil. She shook five into her hand and put them, along with the water bottle, in the hand not covering Sam's face. She was tempted to sit next to him on the side of the bed, but she knew if she did, she wouldn't get back up, considering how drained she felt. Instead she leaned down, one knee on the bed and pulled the ice pack away from Sam's head. "Let me look at it," she said softly.

Reluctantly, Sam let Amie look at his head. He didn't move his arm, or open his eyes though. His head didn't really look that bad and as she gingerly felt the spot of impact, Amie concluded that he probably just needed rest. He'd most likely have a headache for a couple of days, but by morning he would be okay to travel.

"Take those and get some sleep. I'll check on your head later." Amie pushed herself upright, trying not to wobble as she did so. She didn't need Dean to see her looking weak, he'd just bitch at her about it and piss her off. She turned toward the motel table, where Dean still sat, watching her. She hated it when he did that, just watched her without speaking, it made her uncomfortable. She wished for the millionth time that she knew what he was thinking. She quickly licked her lips, wincing as she hit the cut on her lower lip. Dean's eyes flicked to her tongue, watching it intently, taking another drink from the whiskey bottle.

"Now that I'm done playing Florence Nightingale, I'm going to take a shower. And get some sleep. Not necessarily in that order." Amie glanced at Dean. "Are you alright? Do you want something for your shoulder?"

"Nah, I'm good. Go, get your beauty rest. You need it," Dean smirked.

"God, you're an ass." Amie grabbed her backpack off of the bed not occupied by a sleeping giant and headed for the door. She glanced back over her shoulder at Dean, but he was staring at the space over her head, not making eye contact at all. Typical. She pulled open the motel room door and walked out, roughly and loudly closing the door behind her. "Oops," she thought, "forgot about Sam's head." She shrugged it off and pulled her room key from her pocket. She proceeded to unlock the motel room right next door to the boys' room. God, it was like she purposely punished herself, putting herself as close to Dean as possible. Not for the first time, she wondered if she needed psychiatric help.

Amie entered the crappy motel room and shut the door. She leaned against it as she dropped her backpack to the floor. She could feel the tears coming, but she didn't know if it was her feelings for Dean overwhelming her, or if she was coming down off of the adrenaline high of the hunt. Probably a little bit of both. She moved to the bed, sat down and pulled off her boots. She hated those things, but you couldn't really hunt in flip-flops, now could you? She tossed them across the room and flopped back on the bed. She lay there in silence for a couple of minutes, then turned on her side, curled into the fetal position and let the tears flow. Amie kept telling herself it was just the aftermath of the hunt that was all, just the aftermath of the hunt. With that mantra playing in her head, she quickly dozed off. __


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter Two **

"You know, you should really be nicer to her," Sam mumbled from the bed after the door slammed.

Dean glanced over at his brother. "I thought you were asleep?"

"Nope, just listening to you be a jerk, as usual. But really, you could be nicer. She does a lot for us."

Dean rolled his eyes. He knew Amie did a lot for them, but there was a lot more he wished she would do. And not for Sam, for him. And him alone. The things he wished she would do kept him awake at night. And he most definitely couldn't tell Sam about those things.

Dean glanced at Sam. He still had his face covered by his arm, so hopefully he couldn't see the wistful expression Dean knew was on his face. "Shut up and go to sleep," Dean muttered.

Sam shifted slightly and let out a muffled snore. Dean got up and crossed the room to his brother. He was asleep. Thank God, now Dean wouldn't have to listen to him yammer on about how rude he was or how Amie did this and Amie did that, blah, blah, blah. He knew exactly how he acted when he was with Amie. He made a conscious effort to be a jerk so that she wouldn't figure out how he really felt.

Dean dropped himself onto the other bed and stretched out, moving his right arm gingerly. As usual, Amie's doctoring skills were no less than amazing. She had stitched him right up, and it hadn't even hurt. He hadn't been serious when he called her mean. It was just another attempt to keep his true feelings a secret.

Dean leaned back against the flimsy motel bed headboard and closed his eyes. There was no way he was letting Amie know the extent of his feelings for her. She couldn't know how worried he was when he saw the Wendigo headed for her. She'd be pissed if she knew he'd shoved her out of the way and taken the brunt of the Wendigo attack because he was terrified of something happening to her. Dean's brain had shut down and his protective instincts had kicked in. All he could think was that he couldn't lose her. And later, in the motel room, he'd wanted to be the one taking care of her, not the other way around. He'd seen the abrasion on her temple and the cut on her lip. He'd noticed how gingerly she was moving and how tired she seemed. But instead of helping her, he'd let her take care of him. Because it meant feeling her touch his bare skin, feeling her breath blowing on his shoulder, her hands on his body as she leaned over him. It meant for a few minutes he could imagine that there was more to their relationship than hunting.

Dean forced his eyes open. He wasn't ready to go to sleep yet. He knew what would be waiting for him in his dreams. In his dreams, his and Amie's relationship was more than platonic. She wasn't just another hunter that Sam and Dean turned to for help when they needed it. She was so much more than that.

"Shit!" Dean jerked himself awake again. This wasn't going to work. He couldn't stop thinking about her. Over the last few months, the last thing he thought about as he fell asleep was Amie and the first thing he thought about when he woke up was Amie. Even if they weren't within a thousand miles of her, she was always on his mind. He'd find himself wondering where she was and what she was doing. When his phone rang, the one that she had the number to, he'd scramble to answer it, scared it would be her and she would be in trouble. And if it wasn't her, he'd find himself disappointed. It just wasn't quite the same hearing Garth's voice when he was hoping for Amie's. Dean chuckled to himself. That was an understatement.

Dean wondered how he had let this happen. He was usually so good at shutting down his emotions. They had known Amie now for over two years and it was like she had wormed her way under his skin and into his heart without him even realizing it. When they first met, it had been all business, just like he liked it. At least he thought it was all business.

_"What's her name again? The hunter Garth called?" Dean asked Sam as they pulled into the parking lot of the tiny bar outside Missoula, Montana. _

_"Umm, Amie, with an i-e, I think," Sam answered._

_"Are you freaking kidding me? With an i-e? Come on. She's probably worthless. Can't trust Garth to do anything, I swear." Dean slammed the door to the car just a bit harder than he intended._

_Sam pulled his long frame out of the car, stretching as he did. "Well, she's the only hunter around. And if we don't have someone take care of that vampire nest right away, they'll be gone. Look, we'll go in, meet her and see what she's like. Garth said not to base our opinion on the way she looks. He said she's scary as shit and he wouldn't mess with her. If we really think she can't handle it, well, then I guess we let 'em go."_

_Dean hated both ideas, but they were out of options. Time was not on their side and they had to get to Dick Roman sooner rather than later. He started toward the bar, muttering under his breath the entire time._

_Dean pulled open the bar door, taking a minute to let his eyes adjust to the dim interior. Sam pushed past him, glancing around._

_"That's probably her, over by the pool tables. Garth said she's a short redhead. I don't see any other women in here either." Sam glanced over his shoulder at Dean. "Are you coming or do you want me to talk to her?"_

_"Let's get this over with." Dean shrugged and moved toward the petite woman sitting at a table alone. She had her back to a wall and she was facing the only entrance to the bar. "Well, that's a plus," Dean thought grudgingly. _

_As they approached the table, Dean saw a subtle shift in the woman's demeanor. She straightened up a bit and moved her right ankle up to rest on her left thigh. She nonchalantly placed her hand over the boot she was wearing. Dean guessed there was a gun there. He was impressed, a little._

_"Excuse me, ma'am? Are you Amie?" Dean was happy to let Sam do the talking. He was watching the woman, wary of any sudden movements._

_"Yes. And you are…?" She left the question hanging. Dean noticed she tensed as she asked it. _

_ Sam smiled his best heartbreaking grin. "I'm Sam Winchester and this is my brother Dean. I think Garth told you we were coming?"_

_The woman, Amie, relaxed slightly. She raised her right hand. "Well, it's nice to finally meet the infamous Winchester brothers. Have a seat. And don't call me ma'am. I'm not that old." She laughed as the boys took a seat._

_Sam reached over and shook her hand. Dean followed suit. He immediately noticed that she didn't have calluses and she had a manicure. A manicure for God's sake. This was not going to work out. There was no way this woman was a hunter. Dean leaned back, crossed his arms and put on his best grumpy face. _

_"So," Dean said, using his most gravelly voice, "you're a hunter?" He phrased it as a question and loaded it with skepticism._

_For the first time since he had come into the shitty little bar, Amie looked directly into Dean's face. Holy shit, her eyes were blue and she had the longest eyelashes he'd ever seen. Dean's breath caught in his throat and he coughed a little. Dammit, she was pretty. Not in that drop-dead- Kate-Beckinsale-in-Underworld kind of way, but definitely not hard on the eyes. "Well, this just got a little bit easier," Dean thought._

_"Yes, I'm a hunter. And I'm good. And I'm not going to sit here and try to prove it to you either. You either believe me or you don't. I don't care." Amie picked up a beer bottle from the table and took a drink. Dean couldn't stop watching her mouth. He was impressed with her attitude. She obviously didn't take any crap from anybody. And she wasn't intimidated easily. He thought maybe she just might work out. _

_"Well, we don't expect you to prove anything, ma'…, Amie. We just want to make sure whoever goes after this nest is equipped to do it, that's all." As usual, Sam was trying to smooth the feathers Dean had ruffled. _

_"Oh, I'm equipped," Amie laughed. Dean smiled, unable to help himself. "Just give me the info and you boys can be on your way. From what Garth tells me, you have more pressing matters to attend to." _

_Sam glanced at Dean. Dean shrugged, figuring that they had no other options. And honestly, there was something about this tiny redhead he was impressed with. He thought she might just pull it off. Sam looked surprised, but he pulled out the paper he had written the address on and slid it across the table to Amie. She grabbed it, stood up and tucked it into the back pocket of her jeans. She turned to leave. _

_"Wait," Dean said. Sam looked at him in surprise. "Umm, why don't you give us your number, in case, you know, you need anything?" Dean realized he was trying to stall her. What the hell?_

_Amie grinned at Dean. Dean felt himself start to blush, something he was not accustomed to. What the hell? Women never made him blush. He tried to shake it off. "Or we could give you our number?" _

_"Now that makes more sense. If I need anything, I'll call you." Amie pulled her cell phone from her back pocket. "Shoot, handsome."_

_Dean was flustered. He wasn't quite sure what was going on, but he was usually the one shooting from the hip with compliments and keeping the girls guessing. In just a matter of minutes, this woman had turned the tables on him. He managed to stammer out his number, the whole time watching Amie's long, delicate fingers type it into her phone. When she finished, Amie winked at Dean and walked away. _

Dean felt his head slip to the side, jarring him awake. He hadn't wanted to dream about Amie, but he wasn't sure the memories of their first meeting were any better. When they'd first met, he'd wanted so badly to dislike the cute redhead with the spunky attitude, but it hadn't worked out like that at all. Instead, Dean was pretty sure he liked her more than could be considered safe, for either of them.


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter Three**

Amie felt like she'd been put in a dryer and spun around for hours. There wasn't a spot on her body that didn't hurt. She was sure it was from hitting the floor of the cave where the Wendigo kept its victims and then getting kicked across said floor several times. She carefully sat up, hoping she didn't pass out from the pain.

"I probably should have taken some Advil," she thought to herself. "Maybe a hot shower will help."

Amie pulled herself off of the bed and began peeling off the filthy clothes she still had on. She glanced at the clock and took note of the fact that she had slept for about three hours. "That must be some kind of record," she thought sarcastically. "Stupid insomnia." Amie longed for the days when she had been able to sleep a full night, the days before her husband and son had been—

"Stop it," she said out loud. "Do not go there."

Finally out of her dirty clothes, she grabbed some towels from the pile on top of her luggage and moved into the bathroom. She checked her reflection in the tiny mirror while the water in the shower worked its way toward warm. Whoa, she looked a lot worse than she had a couple of hours ago. She had a black eye, a huge scrape down the left side of her face and a substantial cut on her lower lip. Checking out the rest of her body, she noticed that most of the bruises and abrasions were on her left side. When Dean shoved her out of the way, she must have fallen on her left side. And stayed on that side while she was kicked around. Nice. At least all of the achiness would be contained to one part of her body.

Once the water was warm enough, Amie stepped under the pulsing stream of the shower, right side first. She turned slowly, until she could get her hair wet. As she closed her eyes, enjoying the heat and pounding of the water, Dean's face made an appearance in her head.

"Dammit! Can't I get a minute's peace? I wish my brain had an off-switch" she thought to herself.

But unfortunately, when it came to Dean, especially in the last few months, there was no off-switch. He was constantly on her mind. Every single thing reminded her of him. Amie scrubbed roughly at her hair, not caring that it hurt. Thanks to Dean and his macho, "I'm the man, get out of my way" attitude, every part of her body hurt. And thanks to Dean and his "keep away, I don't get involved emotionally" attitude, she felt like her heart was breaking.

Amie finished cleaning up, shut off the water and stepped out of the shower. She wrapped a towel around her head and one around her body and moved back to the bedroom. She rummaged around in her suitcase for undergarments, her yoga pants and a tank top. She pulled on the clothes, carefully, and then ran a comb through her long, red hair. Once the mundane act of cleaning up was done, she sat back on the bed, her thoughts again drifting toward Dean. She looked toward the wall separating their rooms, imagining him sleeping in that unbelievably sexy way of his.

God, how had she gotten to this point? How had her every thought become consumed with Dean? She remembered when she first met him, how up until that point, she'd only heard rumors about the Winchesters—Sam, the bookworm and Dean, the ladies' man. The rumors didn't even begin to do Dean justice.

_When Garth called her and told her that the Winchesters needed help, she thought he was joking. The Winchesters never needed help. But, apparently they did, and she was literally the only hunter in a 500 mile radius. And as luck would have it, she was in the same town as them, thanks to her nostalgic need to see the ranch her husband grew up on. Amie agreed to meet them at a tiny bar on the east side of town._

_She purposely got to the bar a few minutes early, ordered a beer and secured a table at the back, facing the door. Never let anything sneak up on you. She had learned that the hard way._

_She'd been at the bar about 45 minutes and was seriously considering leaving when the door opened for the first time all afternoon. She glanced up, but all she could see was two really tall figures backlit by the bright afternoon sunlight. As they moved into the bar, she figured they had to be the Winchester boys. They paused for a minute, clearly discussing something, then started toward her table._

_Amie quickly sized up the boys. She was pretty sure Sam was the taller of the two, from the stories she'd heard. That meant Dean was the one with the very surly look on his face. She moved her right leg up so she had easy access to her gun, just in case they weren't who she thought._

_The boys stopped in front of her table and the taller of the two said, "Excuse me ma'am? Are you Amie?"_

_She glanced up, way up, and responded, "Yes. And you are…?" She waited for an answer, tensing slightly._

_She was rewarded with what she figured was his best panty-dropping grin. She couldn't help but smile in return as he introduced himself and his brother. She'd been right, Sam was the taller one._

_Amie put out her hand, and invited the boys to sit. It was funny how her mind immediately adopted the term "the boys" for the Winchester brothers. Even though they were both obviously in their late 20s, early 30s, her mind insisted on referring to them as boys. First Sam and then Dean shook her hand. She noticed Dean looking at her nails and her callus-free hands and grimacing, like he wasn't happy about it. Well, screw him. Her late husband had loved her hands and she kept them in top shape, sort of as a tribute to him._

_Dean fixed his face into what Amie would come to call his "grumpy cat" look and skeptically said "So, you're a hunter?"_

_"So that's how this is going to go," Amie thought unhappily. "Yet another sexist, jerk hunter who thinks I'm not capable of doing anything because I'm short, thin and a woman."_

_Amie put on her best smile and turned it full-force on Dean, looking him right in the eyes for the first time. Shit, he was gorgeous. Like, really gorgeous. But Amie didn't think he knew it. Or at least not the extent of it. She was sure he knew the effect he had on women, but there was no way he realized just what his green eyes did to a girl. She stopped and took a deep breath. "Well, this just got a lot harder," she thought._

_Amie took another deep breath. Time to turn on the attitude, or she would end up another notch on the notorious Dean Winchester's bedpost, her heart broken. It wasn't too hard since she was already irritated by his question._

_"Yes, I'm a hunter. And I'm good. And I'm not going to sit here and try to prove it to you either. You either believe me or you don't. I don't care." Amie quickly grabbed her beer and took a swallow, hoping it would help her calm down or at least keep the boys, Dean in particular, from noticing her shaking hands._

_Sam was saying something about being equipped to handle the case, but Amie wasn't really listening. She was trying not to look at Dean, but it wasn't working. She kept glancing at him out of the corner of her eye. She needed to get out, now, or she would be lost._

_"Oh, I'm equipped," she laughed nervously. "Just give me the info and you boys can be on your way. From what Garth tells me, you have more pressing matters to attend to." Amie glanced at Dean, hoping he didn't see. He was smiling slightly as Sam looked at him for approval. Dean shrugged. Sam seemed surprised, but he slid the address over. She grabbed it quickly, stood up and shoved it in her back pocket. She turned to leave. Finally._

_"Wait," Dean said._

_"Shit, so close," Amie thought. She fixed her best, flirty smile on her face and turned back to Dean. Her stomach was rolling with nerves. What the hell? He was just a guy with a pretty face for crying out loud._

_"Umm, why don't you give us your number, in case, you know, you need anything?" Dean asked._

_He wanted her number? That couldn't end well. Her brain flew through the options, obviously taking too long to answer, because Dean finally said, "Or we could give you our number?"_

_Inwardly, Amie breathed a sigh of relief. She could take the number and then promptly lose it. Her heart would remain intact. "Now that makes more sense. If I need anything, I'll call you." Amie pulled her cell phone from her back pocket and prepared to put the number in. Then she said something she never thought she'd say, "Shoot, handsome." Really, she was flirting? She was trying to get away from him, not encourage him. And then, instead of walking away after getting Dean's number, she winked at him. She _freaking_ winked at him. God, what was wrong with her? She turned and made her escape._

Amie's mind returned to the present. She smiled sadly to herself. Well, she hadn't ended up a notch on Dean's bedpost, but he had definitely broken her heart. Over and over again. Not because he was trying, but simply because he was Dean Winchester.


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter Four**

Dean rubbed the back of his left hand across his face. Was the sun even up yet? He looked over his right shoulder toward the bed Sam slept in. It was empty. That was when Dean heard the shower. God, that meant that the sun was up and they needed to get moving. But it also meant breakfast. Dean sat up slowly, still favoring his right shoulder. He looked at the row of small, neat stitches Amie had put in the gash the Wendigo had made on his shoulder. No redness or puffiness, which meant no infection. She was good.

Sam pulled open the bathroom door. "Dude, let's go. I'm starving."

"I take it you're feeling better," Dean asked his brother. He reached for his pants on the floor, pulling them on slowly as he tested out the mobility of his shoulder. He was still pretty stiff from yesterday's fight. He wondered how Amie was feeling. He had known she was hurting when she left their room yesterday, but she always tried to hide her pain. The Wendigo had really worked her over. He probably should have checked on her last night, but he was afraid if he went to her room, he wouldn't want to leave. Especially if she was hurt and vulnerable.

"Have you talked to Amie? Is she awake?" Dean inquired.

Sam mumbled as he pulled on his t-shirt. "No, I woke up, drank 3 bottles of water and hit the head. I'll go over and see if she's up. I'm sure she'll want food." Sam finished getting dressed and started for the door.

"Wait." Dean stepped in front of Sam. And Sam got that look on his face, the "I knew it" look. Dean reconsidered. "Fine, you go. I'll shower and get dressed." Which wasn't what he wanted to do. What he wanted to do was knock on Amie's door and see if she was awake. He loved seeing her first thing in the morning, her face scrubbed clean of make-up, walking around in her bare feet, without the layers of clothes she wore to hide her various weapons. She always seemed more real, more vulnerable to him first thing in the morning. Several times when they had been on the road with her, he had made a point of getting up early so he could go to her room and just watch her go through her morning routine. She would wander around the room as she got ready, talking about pretty much anything. Dean would watch her and listen to her voice, not needing to respond. He liked it when he didn't have to do any talking.

Sam smirked at Dean, as if he could read the thoughts in his head. "I'll be right back. Hurry up." Sam turned and walked out the door.

As Dean gathered his things to take into the bathroom, he heard Sam knock on Amie's motel room door. He tensed, waiting for her to answer. He always hated the fact that she was not in the same room as him; he felt like he couldn't protect her. He'd tried a couple of times to get her to stay in their room, but she always squashed that idea right away, usually with a laugh and a knowing wink in Sam's direction. Dean hated that Amie thought he wanted her in the same room with them for _those_ reasons, but he wasn't about to tell her the real ones. Just then, he heard her voice and Sam's faint response. He turned toward the shower, confident that she was in one piece.

When Dean emerged from the shower, he heard muffled voices coming from the other room. He quickly moved to get dressed. He wanted to give Amie the once over and see how she was feeling. He couldn't stop worrying about her. He pulled his t-shirt on and ran his fingers through his short, damp hair. "Good enough," he muttered. He yanked open the bathroom door.

The first thing Dean saw as he opened the bathroom door were Sam's fingers prodding the side of Amie's face. "What the hell, is she alright?" Dean crossed the room in three giant strides. He dropped to the end of the bed next to Amie and pushed Sam's hand away. That's when he saw the black eye and the scrape down the side of her face. He'd noticed her cut lip yesterday, but it looked a lot worse today. He cupped her chin with his hand and turned her face from side to side, his thumb gently caressing her jaw bone.

"Ouch," he practically whispered. "That looks like it hurts."

"It does," Amie responded, her blue eyes flashing with what Dean guessed was indignation. "Thanks to you."

Dean smiled. Amie could be as mad as she wanted, but a bruised face was better than dead any day in his book. Amie rolled her eyes at Dean's smile and tried to pull her face out of Dean's hand. He tightened his grip minutely, wanting to touch her for just another second. He leaned forward until his mouth was next to her ear. "You're welcome." He released her face and pulled away, only glancing at the shocked look on her face. "Let's go eat."

* * *

Dean pulled the Impala into the small parking lot next to the homey looking café. He glanced in the rearview mirror to look at Amie for the hundredth time. She was slumped in the middle of the back seat, her head back against the seat, eyes closed. She was wearing a little bit of make-up, but it wasn't enough to cover the dark circles under her eyes or the bruises on her face. Dean wanted to kick himself for causing her to get hurt, but he was pretty confident if he hadn't, she'd be dead. She'd be pissed at him for a while, but she'd get over it, she always did. That wasn't what he cared about, he was genuinely concerned about the pain she was obviously in and what he could do to make it better.

Dean put the Impala in park and shut off the engine. "Hungry?" he asked, directing his question toward the back seat.

"Starving," Sam responded, opening his door.

Amie opened her eyes and sat up, wincing somewhat as she did. "I just want coffee," she said.

Dean opened his door, and got out of the Impala in one move, turning to open the door for Amie. She scooted out of the car and stood next to Dean, the top of her head just below his chin. Without thinking, Dean grabbed her and pulled her into a hug. She fit perfectly against his chest, her red hair just brushing his chin. He rested his lips against her forehead for just a second. He bent down so he could whisper in her ear. "I really am sorry, you know that right? The last thing I want is for you to get hurt. But I'll take you hurt over dead any day. Please forgive me."

Amie nodded her head, not speaking. Dean heard her swallow and take in a hitched breath. He held her just a few seconds longer, savoring the moment. Just before he released her, he kissed her forehead. He leaned back and looked into her face. "Friends?" Dean asked. Amie nodded, a small grin on her face. "Yeah, friends."

Dean gestured for her to go ahead of him and shut the back door of the Impala. He shook his head. It had been spinning all morning with thoughts of him and Amie. Maybe he could try a little harder to show her how he felt about her. He thought maybe it was time to work on that "just friends" bullshit once and for all.


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter Five**

Amie reached the door to the restaurant before Dean and moved to open it. Instead, Dean's arm shot forward and pulled the door open. He put his hand in the small of her back, slightly pushing her forward. Amie sighed inwardly. Dean was not making life easy on her today. Whenever he showed her any kind of affection, he pulled her in about a million different directions. And for some reason, he was all full of the touchy-feely today.

Amie spotted Sam at a table next to the windows. Great, he'd sat at a booth. And since he already had his laptop out and spread across the table, she would have to sit with Dean on the other side. Inches from Dean. Amie sighed again. Was the universe conspiring against her today?

Sam glanced up at them as they sat down. "I ordered coffee for everybody. Amie, the flavored creamer is right there," Sam pointed to several cream containers stacked next to her cup. Amie smiled at Sam, though he wasn't looking at her. He was always so considerate of her, treating her like a sister or a close friend. She pulled her coffee toward her. She threw in a couple spoonsful of sugar and the creamer, stirring as she stared out the window. She could feel Dean's leg pressing against hers and it was making it very hard to concentrate. Amie raised the cup of hot coffee to her lips, wincing as it touched her cut.

"Shit," she muttered.

"What?" Dean asked, turning toward her.

"Just, my lip, it hurts. I'll be fine." Amie looked down at menu, trying to decide what to eat. She wasn't really hungry, but she knew that with Dean's current mood, he wouldn't let her get away without eating. He seemed to be trying to take care of her, making up for getting her knocked around. At least that was the only explanation she could come up with for his current actions.

Amie shifted in her seat, trying to move away from Dean. But he apparently was having none of that, swinging his arm up behind her on the seat and pressing his leg into hers. She glanced at him out of the corner of her eye. He was holding his coffee cup, swirling the liquid in a circle, while he read the menu. He noticed Amie looking at him and gave her a quick grin and a wink.

Amie shoved the menu away with an exasperated sigh, just as the waitress approached the table. She looked like she was only about 20 years old and she was already eye balling both of the Winchester brothers. This was going to be interesting. She wasn't sure she was in the mood to watch some waitress flirt with Dean. Things could get violent.

"Morning gentleman," the waitress said in her best flirty voice, while completing ignoring the only female at the table. Amie grinned and shook her head at the obvious slight. "What can I get you?"

Dean grinned up at the waitress, causing her to take a step back. "Join the club sweetie," Amie thought. "He has that effect on all of us." Amie braced herself for the onslaught of Dean's charm. Nothing he liked better than the chance to flirt.

"Why don't you take her order first, young lady?" Dean suggested, emphasizing the word young as he gestured toward Amie. Sam laughed, causing the waitress's grin to falter.

Amie smiled at the young waitress. "I'll just have a two egg, ham and cheese omelet, white toast with butter."

The waitress wrote Amie's order down and turned to Sam. Sam placed his order, never looking up from his laptop. She took down Dean's order and walked away, her shoulders slumping. Amie glanced at Dean again, wondering what was wrong with him. He never missed an opportunity to get under some woman's skin.

"Whatcha lookin' at there, Sammy?" Dean asked. Amie glanced over at Sam, curious as to what he was so engrossed in. Probably a new job.

Sam swung his laptop around so both Dean and Amie could see what he was looking at. "It looks like a lot of demon activity in the Pennsylvania area. Weird storms, cattle deaths, the whole nine yards. I think that's where we should head now that this Wendigo thing is taken care of."

Dean shrugged. "Seems like a good idea to me. Amie?" Dean moved his hand from the back of the seat onto Amie's shoulder, where he began rubbing small circles with his thumb. Amie felt her stomach muscles clench with nerves. What was Dean doing? It was like he was slowly torturing her. Maybe it was time to go off on her own for a while, just to get some perspective.

Amie stared intently at the paper placemat under her coffee cup. "Ummm, yeah, I think I'm going to head back west. See what's happening out there." Dean's hand suddenly clamped down on her shoulder.

"What? You're joking, right?" Dean turned slightly in his seat, his brow furrowing. Amie peered up through her lashes at Dean's face. Shit, he looked pissed. Amie had expected that reaction. But she hadn't expected every reason she had for splitting up to leave her head. All she could do was stare at the tabletop. Dean wouldn't stop glaring at her like he was about to yell. Even Sam looked confused.

"Why the f—?" Dean started to say, but Sam cut him off. "Dean!" Sam glared at Dean, then turned toward Amie. "Do you really think that's a good idea right now? With everything going on? The angels? The increased demon activity. You really shouldn't be alone right now. I think you'd be better off with us. We're better off together."

"Okay, forget I said anything." Amie picked up her coffee cup. She'd figure out something later. She always did.

Dean left his hand on Amie's shoulder, slowly massaging the muscles on her neck. Amie propped her elbows on the table and put her head in her hands, trying to catch her breath. She needed to calm down, try to figure out what the hell Dean was doing. All this PDA was so not like him.

"You alright?" Dean suddenly whispered in her ear, the stubble on his chin scraping her cheek. Amie jumped slightly, causing Dean to chuckle.

"Sorry, you just look, I don't know, upset." Dean kept his lips right next to her ear. Amie turned to face him, but that wasn't a good idea, because then she was practically kissing him. Dammit, why couldn't he scoot over and give her some space? Amie caught a whiff of coffee and mint gum as Dean exhaled slowly. And then he was leaning closer, and Amie was positive that Dean was going to kiss her.

Suddenly a glass plate clunked down on the table in front of Amie, causing her to jump back. "Omelet, right?" The waitress looked a little too pleased with herself at interrupting Dean and Amie.

"Yeah, an omelet," Amie said, glaring at the young brunette. The girl took a step back, suddenly not too sure of herself. She quickly placed Sam and Dean's food in front of them and scurried off.

"She's a sucky waitress," Sam voiced. "Don't leave her a tip." He pushed his laptop aside and dug into his food, sighing contentedly.

Dean laughed, moving his arm off the back of the booth. "Yeah, she's got impeccable timing." Dean turned around, shifting farther away from Amie, his leg no longer touching hers. "Hey, miss, I could use some more coffee!" Dean turned back to his food and started eating. He pointed at her plate with his fork. "Eat," he commanded.

"Yeah, right. Eat. Whatever." Amie shook her head, silently cursing herself, as well as Dean. What she really wanted was Dean to put his arm back around her, or move his leg so it was back against hers. Or did she really? Her emotions were running the full gamut this morning and whatever was happening here between her and Dean, it couldn't end well, for either of them.


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter Six**

Breakfast was over much too soon as far as Dean was concerned. He didn't want to leave, because he knew once they got back to the motel and loaded the cars, it would be hours before he saw Amie again. She'd load all of her crap into that stupid European piece of junk she called a car and take off. No matter how often Dean asked, she refused to follow him to their next destination, always taking off and leaving them behind. Most of the time, she would get to their next job hours ahead of them, thanks to rarely having to stop for gas. As much as Dean hated her car, he had to admit it got much better gas mileage than the Impala. Sometimes though, Amie wouldn't be at the next town or the next job. And at some point, Dean would get a text message telling him where she had ended up. Then it could be months before he saw or heard from her again. And now, thanks to that conversation in the restaurant, Dean was concerned that she was already planning on making her escape. He needed to make sure that didn't happen.

Dean kept glancing at Amie in the rearview mirror on the short drive back to the motel. She was scrolling through her phone, headphones on, muttering to herself and jotting notes on a small notebook she kept in her jacket pocket.

"She's not going to jump out of a moving vehicle, Dean. You can relax," Sam said quietly.

Dean threw one more glance into the rearview mirror and then looked at his brother. "I know. But you know as well as I do that she's thinking about cutting and running once we split up for the drive to Pennsylvania."

"So stop her," Sam shrugged. "You know you can. You even know what you need to say. Quit being a jerk and just tell her."

"I'm not being a jerk. I plan on talking to her." Dean had an idea of what he would say to Amie, but it meant revealing how he really felt; opening himself up and letting her in. And everybody knew emotional vulnerability was not Dean Winchester's strong point.

Dean pulled into the motel parking lot and parked the Impala in the spot next to Amie's shiny blue Mini Cooper. Amie quickly moved to get out of the car. Dean needed to catch her and talk to her before she could solidify any plans she was making. He opened the driver's door, cutting off her route to the motel room doors. He stepped out of the car and grabbed her waist with both hands.

"Wait," Dean said. "Can I talk to you for a minute?" Dean turned to Sam. "Sam?" Dean threw the Impala's keys across the roof. "Will you load up the car?" Sam caught the keys one-handed and turned toward their room.

Amie tried to pull away from Dean's hands resting on her waist, but he wouldn't let her go. "What's up?" she asked warily.

Dean looked around the parking lot. "Can I talk to you, in private?"

Amie looked slightly dumbstruck. "Umm, yeah, I guess so."

She pulled her motel room key from her jacket pocket. Dean took the key with one hand and grabbed her hand with the other, pulling her toward her room. He unlocked the door and pushed Amie inside. Amie flipped the light switch near the door, bathing the room in harsh light. Dean figured it was now or never. Words weren't his strong point, he was always better at showing people how he felt. He pulled Amie against his chest, his hands going up her back, under her jacket. He bent down and captured her lips in a brief, but intense kiss.

Amie pulled back, a look of disbelief on her face. "What the hell, Dean?"

"I've been wanting to do that all morning. And I would have sooner if that waitress hadn't been so bitchy." Dean moved one hand to Amie's face, grasping her chin with his hand. He ran his thumb over her lower lip, being careful not to push on the cut scoring it. He wanted to kiss her again, shit, he wanted to do more than kiss her, but he needed to move carefully or she would disappear as soon as they hit the road.

"I don't understand," Amie whispered breathlessly. "Where did this come from?"

Dean sighed. He should have known he would have to do _some_ talking. Amie never would let him off of the hook that easily. He looked into her blue eyes, still holding her chin carefully in his large hand.

"I guess that lately, the way I look at you has changed." God, that didn't sound right. Dean opened his mouth, then closed it again. Amie stood in front of him, waiting. Dean felt his body temperature rise as his nerves kicked in. He slipped off his jacket and threw it on the bed. He turned back to Amie, but she just stood there, arms crossed over her chest. Why the fuck was she making this so hard? He'd seduced dozens of girls over the years and it had never been this hard. Dean closed his eyes. It was probably because he knew he wasn't trying to seduce Amie. He felt more for her than that. Now if he could just figure out how to say it. "I guess what I'm saying is, I'd like to see where we could take this, this, thing going on between the two of us." Dean gestured between the two of them.

"This thing?" Amie smiled just a little bit. "You're not trying to get me into bed, are you Dean Winchester?

"Well, maybe eventually…." Dean laughed a deep, throaty laugh. "But right now, I'd like to keep you close so I can see if there is something more between us than flirting and innuendo. I know you're thinking about taking off on your own. And I don't want that to happen. I want you to go with us, so we can try to figure out what this is and where we can take it. So, I'm sucking it up and laying it out for you." Dean waited, impatiently, to see what Amie's response would be.

Amie closed her eyes for a brief second. Dean saw her take a deep breath and swallow before she opened her eyes and looked up at the ceiling. She shifted from foot to foot for a second, before fixing Dean with an ice cold stare from her startling blue eyes. "So you're telling me you want more. More than friendship. Or at least to see if there can be more than a friendship between us. Is that right?" Dean nodded, waiting. Amie went back to looking at the ceiling. She took another deep breath, shaking her head. "God help me, I will probably regret this, but okay."

"Okay?" Dean questioned.

"You're right. I was going to take off when we split up. I had no intentions of going to Pennsylvania. But, since you are willing to 'suck it up' well, then I guess I'm willing to do the same. I'll stay with you. I'd like to see exactly what you and I have going on here, too" Amie sighed shakily. "Just, you know, don't shut me out, Dean. All I'm asking is for you to be honest with me. That's more important to me than anything, that you're honest with me."

Dean stepped forward and pulled Amie close. He laid his forehead against hers. "I think I can do that." Though Dean wasn't completely positive he could. Being honest had never worked for him. And if it meant exposing himself emotionally, he wasn't sure it would happen. For now, he'd just let this play out however it played out.

But right now, alone with Amie, what he really wanted was his tongue in her mouth, tasting her, kissing her and consuming her. Dean reached up and pushed her jacket off, letting it fall to the floor. He heard the clunk of her gun as it fell from the jacket's pocket. He ran his hands down her arms until he reached her waist. Once his hands were where he wanted them, he slipped them under the edge of her shirt, placing his hot hands against her cool skin. Amie gasped quietly, looking up into his eyes. Dean leaned down and kissed her, gently at first. He flicked his tongue against her lips, tasting the minty lip gloss she always wore and feeling the cut on her lower lip. When Amie responded by taking his lower lip between her teeth and lightly nipping him, Dean couldn't hold back any longer. He pulled Amie against him, lifting her off of her feet, his kisses became more demanding and insistent. Amie kept pace with him, her tongue darting in and out of his mouth, her hands grabbing at Dean's short hair, pulling him closer. When she wrapped one of her legs around Dean's waist, he let out a groan of desire, sliding his hand under her ass to pull her even closer and keep her right where he wanted her. It briefly crossed Dean's mind that this was escalating much quicker than he had anticipated, but dammit, he was finally where he wanted to be, doing what he wanted to do with the first woman he'd really wanted since Lisa.

Dean kept kissing Amie, but he knew he needed to stop, right now, before they ended up in the bed with their clothes in a pile on the floor. And as much as he wanted that to happen, he knew he didn't want it to be the first thing they did while exploring this new facet of their crazy relationship. Not to mention, Amie had made that comment about Dean trying to get her into bed and if he didn't stop, then that would look like exactly what he had been trying to do. Dean broke the kiss off, pulling away and setting Amie down so she could stand on her own two feet. Amie took a step back, bent over with her hands on her knees and started to laugh. Dean wasn't sure that was the response he'd expected.

"Holy shit," Amie grabbed her jacket off of the floor and stood upright. "What the hell was that?"

Dean shrugged and sat down on the bed. He tried to catch his breath. "Chemistry?" he muttered.

"You've got that right. Wow." Amie knelt on the floor in front of Dean, smiled and kissed him lightly on the cheek. "Thank you for being a gentleman, Dean. Even when I wasn't being very ladylike." Dean felt laughter bubble up in his chest. "You're welcome," he laughed.

Amie laughed and stood up. "I'll give you a minute. I'm going to throw my stuff in my car." Dean felt her plant a kiss on the top of his head and then she was wrestling her bags out the door. Dean dropped his eyes to the floor where her gun still was. Man, he had it bad. And he didn't know what to do about it.


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter Seven**

Amie was leaning against her car trying to plot the best route to Butler, Pennsylvania when Sam sauntered up.

"So, you're going with us?" Sam tried to ask nonchalantly. Amie turned to face him. "Yeah, I am. But I think you knew he'd convince me, didn't you?"

Sam shrugged. "I suspected." He leaned against the Mini Cooper, his height making it look like one of those toy Barbie cars little kids had. "You know he likes you, right?"

Amie laughed, "Well, I do now."

Sam smiled. "No, I mean, he likes _likes_ you."

Amie laughed again. "Seriously, Sam, what is this? High school?" Sam just looked at her. Amie stopped laughing, realizing Sam was trying to be serious. She did know what Sam meant. She also knew she was unlikely to hear Dean say the actual words, the real words. "Okay, say you're right. You know as well as I do that he'll never tell me. I have to take what I can get. So, I'm going to stick around and see what happens. And if it goes south, well, then I will too."

Sam shook his head. "You're taking on a lot. Dean's baggage, it's extensive. He's a Winchester. It's how we are built, the Winchester Way. Are you sure you're ready for that?"

Amie placed herself in front of Sam. "I know there's baggage. And I guess only time will tell if I'm capable of dealing with it or not. I know what I'm getting into, trust me. But for now, I'm going to see how it goes. Are you okay with that?" Amie realized she really wanted Sam's approval. "Are you?"

Sam nodded, just as the Amie's motel room door slammed shut. Amie turned and watched Dean stroll towards her, shrugging into his jacket. Once he was standing in front of her, he moved in until they were nose to nose and slipped his hand into her inside jacket pocket. "Thought you might want that." Amie reached into her pocket and felt her gun. Shit, she hadn't even noticed it was gone. Five minutes and Dean was already distracting her enough that she had lost her gun. She better get her act together or they would both end up dead.

"Sorry," she mumbled.

Dean just shrugged. "Hey Sam, did you find a motel in Butler?" Sam nodded. "Good, will you send the information to Amie?" Amie watched Sam toss the Impala's keys to Dean. "I already did. Texted it a couple of minutes ago when she said she was going with us. Can we go already? If we leave we might make it to Butler by 6 or 7 tonight." Sam climbed in the passenger seat of the Impala.

Dean turned back to Amie, his eyes imploring. "What, Dean?" Amie asked.

"I suppose you're not going to follow me, are you?" Dean grabbed her cold hands, rubbing them between his very warm ones.

Amie sighed. She should have known this question was coming. It always did. But maybe Dean had thought that things would be different after his declaration and their decision to see where they could take their relationship. Amie rolled her eyes. "What do you think?"

Dean chuckled. "I think you're going to tell me that you'll be fine, I need to stop worrying, blah, blah, blah. You're not gonna cut and run, right? Because that's what I really care about."

Amie stood on her tip-toes and kissed Dean on the mouth. "No, I promise. I'll see you in Butler."

Dean grabbed her by the upper arms, pulled her close and kissed her hard. "You better."

* * *

The rain had started about an hour ago. And it was pouring. The swishing of the wipers on the Mini Cooper was starting to grate on Amie's nerves, but the rain was so bad, she had to have them going at full force. She'd plugged her iPod in, but she couldn't hear it. She was moving at a crawl, doing maybe 40-45 miles per hour. Her phone vibrated for the sixth or seventh time in the cup holder, but she wasn't about to look at it in this weather. She was sure it was Dean, again. She had thought she'd be in Butler by this time, but this had become a day straight from hell. First, she'd hit a horrific traffic jam just outside of Cleveland. One that apparently Dean had managed to get around. Then, right after she got on the I-80, she'd gotten a flat tire. Fortunately, she was close to some rinky-dink town and the service station there was able to tow her in. Unfortunately, since she drove a "crappy European import" it took a while to find a new tire. Three hours later she was back on the road, but she was running seriously behind schedule. While Dean knew about the tire-she'd called him while she waited for a new one-he didn't know about the weather and he was probably freaking out. Amie knew she couldn't take a chance calling him while driving in this weather. And there was literally no place to pull off of the road.

Just then, Amie passed a sign for New Castle, Pennsylvania. She decided she would pull off there and call Dean. She was only 40 miles outside of Butler, but in this weather, it was liable to take her another hour or so to get there. If she didn't call him, he'd probably come looking for her. Two miles later, Amie put on her blinker and pulled off the freeway, spotting a Gas-n-Go up ahead. She maneuvered her tiny car into the parking lot, automatically taking note of the cars parked there—an old Dodge pick-up truck and a Toyota Camry. She tried to see in the windows of the convenience store, but the rain was making it difficult. She took her phone out of the cup holder, but she wasn't getting a signal. Amie hadn't wanted to get out of the car, but she really needed to call Dean. Maybe they had a payphone or a land line she could use. She grabbed her jacket from the passenger seat and slid it on. She pulled her gun from the jacket pocket and checked it, making sure the magazine was full. She flicked the safety off and put it back in her pocket. Amie reached down, checking her boot for the knife she kept tucked there. Dean had insisted on giving her Ruby's knife on the last trip she'd made alone, and she'd forgotten to give it back, so it had temporarily replaced her old one. Finally, she grabbed some cash from the glove box, along with a ponytail holder. She quickly pulled her hair back, tucked her cell phone and money in her back pocket and opened the car door. Amie made a dash for the front door of the Gas-n-Go.

As she pushed open the door of the store, her eyes darted around, taking in as much as she could. There was a young kid, probably 18 or 19, behind the counter. A petite blonde was looking through the magazine rack and an overweight farmer in bib overalls was standing in front of the beer cooler. Amie didn't see anyone else. She glanced around, hoping to see a payphone, but there wasn't one. So she turned to the counter, intent on convincing the kid back there to let her make a phone call. Amie unzipped her jacket as she walked, glancing in the mirrors over the register. She thought she saw the blonde inch closer to the front of the store, but she could have been wrong.

"Excuse me?" she asked the clerk. "Do you have a phone I could use? My cell doesn't seem to be working." The clerk shook his head, his eyes darting first to Blondie and then to Farmer Bibs. Amie didn't like the look on his face. It immediately set her on edge. She eased her hand into her jacket pocket and gripped her gun. "No phone? Really?" The clerk's eyes widened and Amie swung around just as Blondie threw a punch at her head. Amie managed to duck and roll toward her, taking the blonde's feet out from under her. Amie shot to her feet, just in time to see Farmer Bibs headed right for her. "Stupid hunter bitch," he screamed, his eyes flashing demon black. She broke into a run, darting around the corner of a Hostess display, knocking it to the ground to hopefully slow down the demon's pursuit. She turned and fired her gun, connecting with Farmer Bibs' shoulder at least twice. Amie knew it wouldn't do any good—after all, it wasn't the Colt- but it might slow him down. She slid around another corner, running head on for what looked like an office door. She needed to get the knife out of her boot and fast. She flew through the door, slamming it shut behind her and locking it. Her eyes darted around the room, looking for something, anything to block the door. The door reverberated with a huge thud. Amie pushed the heavy oak desk in front of the door, adrenaline giving her an extra boost of strength. That would only give her a couple extra minutes, but she'd take what she could get.

Amie backed to the wall, her hand fumbling the knife from her boot. She pulled her cell from her pocket, praying that she had service. One bar. Hopefully it was enough. She quickly pulled up her contacts and scrolled to Dean's name. She pressed and held the button to automatically call him as another thud sounded against the door.

"Son of a bitch, Amie, I've been calling and texting for over an hour! Where the fuck are you?" Dean's voice was frantic.

"Dean, shut up and listen to me. I'm in a Gas-n-Go off the freeway outside New Castle. There are at least two demons here, maybe more." Amie stopped to catch her breath.

"Do you still have the knife? Ruby's knife?" Dean's voice was less frantic, more businesslike.

"Yeah, I do," Amie managed to stammer as another thud splintered some of the wood on the door. She tried to push herself closer to the wall, to no avail.

"Alright, hang tight. We were out looking for you, so we should be there in less than…." Dean's voice cut off. Service lost. Shit. Amie shoved her phone back into her pocket. She reviewed her options. She could continue to cringe against the wall, which was just delaying the inevitable, or she could start slashing with the knife. Option two seemed her best bet. Another piece of the door broke loose, wood flying everywhere. Amie scrambled forward and climbed onto the desk, staying away from the holes in the door. When an arm came through the door, feeling for the lock, Amie slashed it with the knife. She heard a hiss and the arm disappeared.

Suddenly, Amie felt herself fly through the air and hit the wall. She couldn't move. As she watched helplessly, the two demons, Blondie and Farmer Bibs, pushed through the door. Blondie walked forward, black eyes searching the room. She stopped in front of Amie. "Well, now this is interesting. You're that female hunter that hangs out with the Winchesters, right?" Amie refused to answer. "It's alright sweetie, I know who you are. So that phone call you just made was probably to them. Which means they are rushing to get here to come to your rescue. I think you just became my ticket to the Queen's good graces." The blonde demon moved closer to Amie. "I'll just jump in your sweet little meat suit and hitch a ride home with the Winchesters. Once I know where they hole up, all I have to do is let the Queen know and I'm good. Open up, gorgeous."

Amie couldn't help but smile at the demon holding her against the wall. "Go ahead and try, you black-eyed bitch." The demon's smile faltered when she realized she couldn't possess Amie. She moved forward and punched Amie in the face, re-opening the cut on her lower lip and bloodying her nose. The demon screamed in frustration, causing glass to break all around the room, her hold on Amie suddenly releasing, sending her crashing to the floor. Amie felt a kick to her torso that pushed her across the room, slamming her into the desk, her head cracking on the hard oak wood. She tried to take a deep breath and push herself into a standing position, but her body wouldn't cooperate.

Just then, a shot rang out. The blond demon jerked forward, orange light pouring from a hole in her head. Amie heard Dean scream at Sam to go get the other one while he checked on her. Sam grabbed the knife Amie still had clenched in her fist and took off down the hall. The last thing she saw before she passed out was Dean's face hovering over her. She could almost hear him saying I told you so.


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter Eight **

Dean waited impatiently for Sam to unlock the motel room door, his foot tapping on the cement walkway. Sam pushed the door open and stepped out of his way. Dean maneuvered through the door, making sure not to hit Amie's head on the doorjamb. Sam leaned in and caught Dean's eye. "I'm going to get everything out of the cars. I'll be quick."

Dean didn't answer as he moved to put Amie down on the bed. Once she was out of his arms, he took his jacket off and tossed it on the chair by the bed. He leaned over Amie's prone form on the bed, his eyes trying to look at everything at once. She hadn't regained consciousness since they left the Gas-n-Go, not even when he had awkwardly shoved her into the front seat of the Impala. Sam had tried to get him to put her in the back, but Dean needed her up front where he could check to see if she was still breathing and try to assess her injuries. Where he could touch her.

Dean moved in and sat next to Amie on the bed. His fingers probed her head, where he found a considerable bump on the back. Dean had seen the blonde demon kick Amie and sending her flying across the room, her head slamming into the heavy wooden desk. Next, his hands slid down her neck and over her face. The cut on her lip was worse, probably from a punch. Her nose had obviously been bleeding, if the caked blood on her upper lip was any indication. Dean sat her up, pulling her against his chest so he could slip off her jacket, which he dropped on the floor. He eased her t-shirt up, exposing her stomach and the area just below her bra, wanting to see what kind of damage had been done by the kick. Unfortunately, he couldn't tell what bruises were old and what were new. She seemed to breathing okay, so Dean hoped that meant no broken or cracked ribs. His brain tried to comprehend the number of bruises he saw, but it just couldn't. Amie had been a lot worse off than she had let on after the Wendigo fight. And now it was even worse.

"How is she?" Sam asked as he pushed the motel room door shut and locked it. "She wake up yet?"

"No, not yet," Dean answered. "And she's beat to shit. But I can't tell what's from the Wendigo fight and what's from tonight." Sam stood next to him and whistled softly. "Shit, she's one giant bruise," he commented. Dean eased Amie back down on the bed, pulling her shirt down as he did. "Get some damp cloths, will you? I'm want to try to clean up some of this blood."

Sam nodded and went into the bathroom. Dean heard the water in the sink a few seconds later. He moved to the foot of the bed so he could pull off Amie's boots. He dropped them to the floor, rolling his eyes at the neon-striped socks she wore. He pulled those off as well, dropping them next to her boots. Just then, Sam came out of the bathroom and handed him a wet washcloth. Dean set it on the nightstand and turned to look at his brother.

"I'm going to take her jeans off, try to make her more comfortable. I also want to get a look at this cut." Dean pointed to a jagged rip on Amie's thigh that was surrounded by blood. He moved to unbutton and unzip her jeans. Sam snorted. Dean looked up at him. Sam put his hands up and smiled.

"Trust me, Sam, this is not how I envisioned getting Amie out of her pants for the first time," Dean deadpanned. He couldn't believe he was joking right now. "Help me." Sam went to the foot of the bed and grabbed Amie's pant leg. Dean pulled the pants down past Amie's hips, being careful to keep her sensible, yet sexy, black underwear in place. He could feel how soft her skin was as his fingers skimmed her upper thighs. Dean took a deep breath. That was so not where his mind needed to go right now. Sam helped him pull her jeans the rest of the way off and dropped them to the floor. He moved to the other bed and sat down, instinctively knowing that he needed to let Dean be the one to take care of Amie.

Dean grabbed the warm cloth from the table. He cleaned the blood from the cut on Amie's thigh. Fortunately, it didn't look very deep. He moved up and sat next to her on the bed, gently wiping the blood from her face. Amie stirred slightly, groaning. A second later, her blue eyes looked into Dean's green ones. "Hey," she whispered. "Hey, yourself," he replied. "How you feeling?"

Amie moved her hand to her head. "Like shit." She glanced around the room. "Where are we?" Her eyes moved back to Dean's. "The motel in Butler," he answered. "And before you say anything, yes, you're in our room and yes, you're staying here. Got it?" Dean scowled, but he continued gently wiping the blood from her face. Amie closed her eyes and grinned. "Yes, sir." Amie's grin faded and she grabbed Dean's arm. "I'm sorry, Dean."

"I know. I'll save my 'I told you so' for later. First things first. Do you think you need a hospital? Can you breathe alright? What about your head?" Dean tossed the washcloth to the table and took Amie's hand.

"No, no hospital. My head hurts. Shit, everything hurts. But I can breathe fine. I just want to sleep. Can I have some Advil?" Amie moved to get up. Dean pushed her back down and looked at his brother.

"I'm on it," Sam said as he moved off the bed and start rummaging through his backpack. Dean put the pillows against the headboard and moved Amie to a sitting position, wincing as she winced. He grabbed a bottle of water from the table and placed it in her hand. Then he crossed the room, poured himself a drink and came back to sit in the chair beside the bed. Sam handed her the Advil and sat down.

"Did the demons say anything? Any indication as to why they might be here?" Sam inquired.

Dean watched Amie squint, obviously having to concentrate on talking. "No, nothing about why they were here. But they knew who I was. The big demon, in the overalls, he called me a 'hunter bitch' before I had even pulled a weapon. That's unusual, because I am usually the last one they suspect. And the blonde, she called me 'that female hunter that hangs out with the Winchesters.' She was going to use me to get close to you guys and report back to somebody she called 'the Queen.' But she got pissed when she couldn't possess me." Amie shifted and pulled down the edge of her underwear, right by her right hip. Dean could see white lines in the skin. "Anti-possession tattoo. Anyway, then you guys showed up." Amie leaned her head back against the pillow and closed her eyes.

Sam looked at Dean, shaking his head. Dean knew what he was thinking. Nobody they knew was safe. Since Abbadon had come back, she had been on a quest to find the Winchesters. Sam and Dean didn't tell anybody where they were, not anybody. Amie was the only other hunter they consistently worked with. And now, it looked like they would have to keep her close as well. Sam jerked his head to the side, indicating he needed to talk to Dean. They rose and crossed to the other side of the room.

"This isn't good," Sam said. "We need to lock down, big time. Nobody and I mean nobody can know where we are. And Amie is going to have to stay with us. No more separating. She was probably the last hunter that Abbadon didn't know about. Obviously that's not the case anymore."

Dean agreed. "Yeah. Make some calls, find a storage unit. We'll park the Mini there. She'll have to travel with us. I'm not letting her out of my sight. She won't like it." Dean glanced over his shoulder at Amie's slumped form. She'd either fallen asleep or passed out again. "But she'll have to get over it." Dean turned and crossed back to the bed. He wrapped his arms around Amie, moving her so she was laying down. He pulled the blankets over her and moved back to Sam, who had set himself up with his laptop at the table. Dean pulled the other chair out and sat down. He refilled his glass from the whiskey bottle.

"You alright?" Sam asked.

Dean contemplated the glass in his hand before taking another drink. "Yeah, I'm fine." He stared off into space. His emotions were all over the place and he was having a hard time keeping himself in check. He wanted to throw something, anything. He wanted to kill Abbadon, but he didn't know where she was, or how to kill her for that matter. He wanted to hole up somewhere with Amie and never leave. He wanted to dump her at the bunker so he and Sam could hunt without him worrying about her getting hurt. Dean rubbed his forehead. Shit, he didn't know what he wanted anymore. He glanced at Amie. She seemed to be sleeping, curled on her right side, her hand tucked under her chin. He knew he didn't want her hurt anymore. Dean took another drink, emptying the glass. He set it down on the table and leaned back in his chair. "Anything?" Dean asked Sam.

"No, I can't find a reason that there would be so much demon activity in the area. Just like I couldn't find anything this morning. But obviously the signs are correct, otherwise Amie wouldn't have stumbled on those demons in that Gas-n-Go. What do you think we should do?"

"I don't know. Wait." Dean tapped his fingers on the table. "Or leave. Shit. We can't fight Abbadon, we don't know how. And I guarantee that she will know where we are, sooner rather than later. We need to go. In the morning. Shag ass back to the bunker and regroup. We need to figure out how to kill Abbadon before we do anything else."

Sam was quiet for a minute. "Yeah, you're right. Let's get some sleep and we'll leave in the morning." Sam closed his laptop and stretched. He looked at Amie sleeping on Dean's bed. "You want my bed? I can sleep on the couch." He pointed to the saggy couch against the wall. Dean grinned. "Yeah, you're not fitting on that couch. It's like five feet long. I'll sleep in the chair next to Amie. I can pull it next to the bed and prop my feet up." Dean stood up and moved toward the bed. As he passed Sam, he patted his shoulder. "Get some sleep, Sammy."


	9. Chapter 9

**Chapter Nine **

Amie opened her eyes. She wasn't quite sure where she was and it was too dark to see much of anything. She tried to lift her head to get a better look around, but it felt like a giant spike was being pounded through her left eye as soon as she moved. She closed her eyes for a minute, hoping the pain would lessen. When it didn't, she tried taking a deep breath. Shit, breathing hurt. What the hell had happened to her? She tried to think through the pain. She remembered rain, demons, Hostess products, screaming and flying through the air. At some point she had seen Dean's face, worry etched through the lines around his eyes. Sam asking questions. Her pants were missing, but she didn't remember taking them off. Her tongue snaked out of her mouth, searching for the cut on her lip she knew was there. It was definitely bigger. Her thigh hurt, but it was minor compared to other parts of her body. She remembered being in the Impala, the engine growling as Dean drove. Her head had been resting on the seat next to his leg. But why had she been in the Impala and where the hell was her car?

Amie kept her eyes closed, but stretched out her arm until she met resistance. It felt like a leg. She figured she knew who it belonged to. "Dean? Dean?" She patted the leg, hoping it was enough to wake him up. The leg shifted and she heard a grunt. "Dean? Dean, wake up."

Suddenly, the leg was gone. Next thing she knew, there was a face next to hers. Amie could smell whiskey. It was definitely Dean. She signed in relief. Callused fingers brushed the hair from her eyes.

"Hey, you're awake," Dean whispered. "Do you need anything?" He ran his fingers repeatedly through Amie's hair. The motion was soothing.

"No, but I feel awful. Especially my head, it's killing me. Are you and Sam okay?" Amie tried to look at his face, but opening her eyes was too painful.

"We're fine. Stop worrying about us. Why don't you go back to sleep?" Amie didn't want to sleep, but Dean was still rubbing her head and she felt herself slipping away. He must have thought she had gone back to sleep, because he stopped and started to move away. Amie grabbed his hand before he was out of reach. "Wait." Dean put his face back next to hers. "What? Do you need something?" Dean's thumb traced her cheekbone. "Don't go," Amie whispered as she tried to pull Dean closer.

Dean seemed to sense what she needed. Suddenly, Amie felt herself being lifted and moved over. Pain shot through her head, causing her to gasp. Then a warm, solid body was under her torso and head, strong arms wrapped around her and a hand was smoothing her hair. She brought her hand up and tightly gripped the waistband of Dean's jeans. She felt like a drowning woman grasping at a life preserver. If she let go of Dean, she would fall back down the black hole of pain. She tried to take a deep breath, but it hurt too much. She closed her eyes, hoping for sleep. She could smell Dean, the smell that was unique to only him—a combination of whiskey, Old Spice deodorant, gunpowder and something that could only be described as Dean. As she began to drift off, Amie remembered the first time she had noticed that smell.

_Amie shifted uncomfortably, trying to nonchalantly push Dean's arm away. Instead he tightened his grip, pulling her closer. She put on her best fake smile and sipped her beer. Dean was trying not to laugh, she could hear it in his voice. This was turning out to be the longest night of her life. Playing nice with annoying suburbanites and pretending to be Dean's wife was not her idea of fun. _

_"Really, this house is haunted. You're joking, right?" Dean flashed a smile at the couple standing next to the punchbowl._

_Amie tuned out what Dean was saying. It wasn't the house that was haunted anyway, it was the bust of some ancient Roman that was haunted. Well, not haunted, cursed. That's what they were after. That's why they were playing married couple, so they could get a look around the house and the security system. It would make it a lot easier when they broke in tomorrow if they already knew where to look. _

_Amie had been surprised when Sam called her. When her phone rang, the familiar lines of AC/DC's Back in Black filling the car, she'd been shocked. "Hello, Sam," she answered. Sam laughed softly. "Hey, Amie, you busy? Dean and I could use some help." Amie sighed. "Oh really? Does Dean know he needs my help?" Sam laughed again. "Yeah, he does. He's not happy about it, but he knows." Amie smiled to herself. "Okay, what's up?" _

_Sam filled Amie in. They were trying to recover the cursed bust of an ancient Roman. It was in the house of a well-off couple on the outskirts of Vale, Colorado. Sam had already gone in as an FBI agent investigating the mysterious deaths in town. The house had a security system the likes of which the boys had never dealt with and they needed to get inside to get a closer look. This couple, the Parsons, was having a welcome party for some of the new people in town and that was their ticket inside. Dean had convinced them he was the newest lessee of a house down the street. But, he'd mentioned a wife that would be in town before the party. Now he needed a wife. Hence, Sam's phone call to Amie. _

_"It was either you or Garth. And Dean said he didn't want to be married to Garth. So that left you," Sam joked. "Will you come?" _

_Amie had agreed, even though she found it difficult to work with Dean. He seemed to think she was incapable of doing anything. He complained about her shooting, despite the fact that she was a crack shot. She was too short, too skinny, her nails were too long, her hair was too long, you name it, Dean complained about it. Amie thought he just really liked to complain. And it wasn't like he was easy to work with. First of all, there was his always distracting good looks, his off-color jokes and his incessant need to always be right. Oh and let's not forget the flirting. Always flirting. And if she was going to be honest with herself, the last few times that Amie had worked with the boys, she found herself thinking and feeling things for Dean she did not want to think or feel. She found it hard to concentrate when she was with him; she felt constantly off-balance, her emotions all over the place. _

_The annoying couple excused themselves to mingle, but Dean didn't let go of Amie. Keeping the smile plastered on her face, she turned to face him. "You can let go now," Amie said through clenched teeth. Even though she wasn't sure she wanted Dean to let go. She kind of liked the feel of his arm around her waist. _

_Dean chuckled, "Nope, not yet. I think we should go upstairs." _

_Amie tried to glare at him, while at the same time all kinds of unwanted thoughts ran through her head. Dean must have mistook her wistful expression for a fearful one. _

_"Relax," he said. "We'll wander up there to look for the bust. If anybody comes along, we can make it look like we went up there to do other stuff." Dean winked at Amie. He dropped his arm from her waist, but took her hand and led her toward the stairs. "Try to look like your enjoying yourself. The pained expression isn't cutting it." Amie adjusted her face into what she hoped was an excited, lustful expression. _

_Once they reached the top of the stairs, Dean let go of Amie's hand and moved quickly down the hallway. Without him having to ask her to, Amie stayed at the top of the stairs, watching for anyone coming, as he opened each door looking for the bust. At the fifth door down, he leaned out. "Bingo!" Amie quickly ran down the hall and stationed herself outside the door. She peered in, trying to see what he was doing. She saw the bust across the room, near a wall. Dean was checking the windows, muttering "shit" to himself repeatedly. _

_Just then, Amie heard someone coming up the stairs. "Dean? Dean, come on!" _

_Dean was still checking the windows. "Hold on!" he whispered._

_Amie didn't think they had time to 'hold on' so she stepped into the room, closing the door. She took a deep breath and crossed the room as quickly as possible. She grabbed Dean by the arm and swung him around. Because she caught him off guard, she was able to shove him into a nearby chair. She quickly straddled him, grabbing his hands and sliding them up her jean-clad thighs. Amie unbuttoned several of his shirt buttons. And since she'd gone this far, she decided to take the plunge and go for it. She leaned over Dean and started kissing him. He immediately responded, grabbing the back of her head to pull her closer, deepening the kiss. Suddenly, for Amie, it wasn't about pretending anymore. She wanted Dean to kiss her, she wanted his hand sliding up her thigh. Heat exploded through her body. She heard the door open behind her, but she didn't turn to see who it was, instead she pushed herself closer to Dean, inhaling his very male scent—whiskey, Old Spice deodorant, gunpowder and something that could only be described as Dean. Dean responded, one hand moving farther up her thigh, the other to her waist. This wasn't working out quite like Amie had planned, but she didn't want it to stop. When Dean grabbed her- _

Amie's eyes shot open, the memory of what happened that day jolting her awake. The giant spike of pain was back, pounding into her left eye, causing her to wince. She lifted her head carefully from the hard pillow under her cheek. She glanced down and realized that it wasn't a pillow under her cheek, it was Dean's bicep. They were laying in the bed, her on her right side with Dean wrapped around her, his right arm under her head and his left arm around her waist holding her against his body. He was snoring lightly, his breath blowing against the back of her neck. Amie winced again at the light streaming through the cheap motel curtains. Since she hadn't noticed it when she woke up earlier, she guessed that it was morning and that was sunlight. When she shifted slightly to try to see the clock, Dean rolled onto his back. Amie thought she might have woke him up, but a few seconds later he resumed snoring.

Amie carefully pushed herself into a sitting position, her head pounding the entire time. She checked the clock-7:00 a.m. She needed to use the bathroom and she really wanted a drink of water. Getting to the bathroom was going to be interesting. The pain moving through her body made even the thought of standing up a daunting task. But since she didn't want to wake up Dean and ask him for help, Amie slowly eased herself into a standing position. So far, so good. She started across the room, moving slowly so as not to fall. Her eyes skimmed the room as she walked. There was a bottle of water on the counter by the bathroom door and luckily, her luggage was stacked on the floor in front of the counter. That was going to make this so much easier. Once she got to the door of the bathroom, she pulled her luggage in and snagged the water bottle. She leaned against the sink for a minute to catch her breath. She took one last look into the other room to see if the boys were still sleeping and then closed the door.


	10. Chapter 10

**Chapter Ten**

Dean came awake slowly. He could hear different sounds in the room around him—water running, the sounds of someone getting dressed. He patted the bed next to him, trying to find the warm body that had been there a couple of hours earlier. When Dean realized Amie was no longer asleep on the bed next to him, he shot into a sitting position. Where the hell was she?

"She's in the bathroom," Sam said from the saggy couch where he was rummaging through his duffle bag, obviously trying to find clothes. "She's been in there for about 30 minutes, too. I hope she's alright." Sam slipped on a black t-shirt and put on his boots. "I'm gonna go get coffee at the café. I'll be back in 10 or 15 minutes." Sam winked at him, grabbed his jacket off the back of the couch and went out the door, without waiting for a response from Dean.

Dean got up from the bed and crossed the room to knock on the bathroom door. "Amie?" Dean waited impatiently for a response. He was about knock again when the door opened a crack. Amie peered out.

"Where's Sam?" she asked.

Dean stepped back from the door as he answered, "He went to get coffee. He said he'll be back in about 15 minutes." Amie pulled the door open the rest of the way. She was only wearing a tank top and very short, tight, spandex shorts. Dean's breath caught in his throat. He took another step back so he could try to objectively assess Amie's condition. Her nose looked swollen and the cut on her lip was definitely worse than it had been the day before. The cut on her thigh was an angry red and the area around it appeared to be bluish-purple color, probably from bruising. She looked tired, but the shower had put a glow in her cheeks.

"How bad do I look? Be honest." Amie pulled her tank top up to the bottom of her ribs, the bruises there an angry purple and blue. Dean put his head back and closed his eyes. Even beat to shit Amie looked good. Really good. He needed to get the thoughts running through his head under control.

He tried to swallow, but his mouth was dry. "You don't look that bad." Amie looked at him, her eyes full of skepticism.

Dean tried again. "No, really. Beat up, sure, but, otherwise, umm, yeah…." For once Dean couldn't think of one smartass comment.

Amie smiled. "Okay, good. I do feel better since I showered." Amie stepped closer to Dean. He was very aware of her lack of clothing and the close proximity of their bodies. "Thanks for taking care of me last night. You were great." She stood on her tip-toes and kissed him, then she wrapped her arms around his waist, staring into his face. "You okay?" she asked.

Dean moved his hands to Amie's waist, careful not to touch her skin because that would push him over the edge he was precariously teetering on. He decided honesty was the best policy. "Yeah, but you're making it really hard for me to behave myself."

Amie's grin widened as she pressed herself closer to Dean, leaving no space at all between their bodies. "Maybe I don't want you to behave yourself," she teased.

Dean put his mouth next to her ear. "You don't want to say that. You are in no condition for me to misbehave." Before he could stop himself, Dean slid his mouth from Amie's ear down her neck to the space between her shoulder and her collar bone. His hand slid down her back to grab her ass. His other hand slid up to grip her breast through the tank top, his thumb brushing across her nipple. Amie moaned, not in pain but in pleasure. Dean carefully pulled her closer, his lips moving rapidly over her skin. He kissed his way up her neck and across her jawbone until he reached her lips. He slowed the urgency of his kisses, mindful of the cut on her lip. They stood kissing for several minutes, Dean running his hands over Amie's body, careful not to hurt her. God, he wanted her. He wanted to lay her on the bed and make love to her for hours. He wanted to touch and taste every inch of her body. Dean could feel his excitement rising as their kisses deepened. He pulled Amie tighter against his body. He pushed her shirt up and ran his hands over her back and stomach, finally settling one hand on her bare breast. He lightly twisted and pulled the nipple, as Amie's breath quickened in response. She let out a soft moan, "Oh, God, Dean." With his other hand, Dean grabbed the back of her head to pull her mouth closer to his.

Suddenly, Amie muttered "Shit" and pulled back from Dean. "Crap that hurt!" She was rubbing the back of her head.

"Son of a bitch!" Dean cursed. "I'm sorry." Dean dropped his hands and took two steps back from Amie. "I'm so sorry."

Amie took a deep breath and shook her head. "You have nothing to be sorry about. I wanted it just as much as you did. I'm the one who snuggled up to you in my underwear. You just looked so damn sexy standing there all wide-eyed and adorable when I came out of the bathroom. All I could think about was getting you to touch me. It worked and now I'm paying for it." Amie shrugged, still rubbing her head. "But I'm taking a rain check. And as soon as I'm feeling better, I will be getting you alone to finish what we started. That's a promise." Amie turned, went back into the bathroom and shut the door.

Dean laughed to himself. Amie never ceased to amaze him. She was taking the blame for their impromptu make out session and promising to finish it later? Why had it taken him so long to figure out he wanted to be with this woman?

Dean was stretched out on the bed watching TV when Sam returned with the coffee 15 minutes later. After Amie had finally emerged from the bathroom, fully clothed this time, Dean had done his best to keep his distance. Every time he looked at her all he could think about was touching her, so he knew getting near her wasn't an option. He had made a quick dash into the bathroom to get cleaned up and then tried to find something distracting to watch on the tiny motel television. Since Amie had prudently chosen to sit on one of the wobbly chairs at the table, Dean opted to sit across the room on the bed. But he was watching every move she made—the way her fingers moved across her laptop keys, her mouth as she took a drink from the water bottle, how she laughed at the Scooby Doo cartoon he had turned on. The sexual tension in the room had become palpable. Every now and then Dean saw Amie glance over at him, then quickly look away. She obviously felt it to.

So when Sam walked in, his hands full with cups of coffee and a pastry bag, Dean breathed a sigh of relief. Sam looked confusedly between Dean and Amie, unsure of what was going on. Dean got up and grabbed a cup from Sam, then snagged the pastry bag. He pulled out a jelly-filled doughnut and shoved it in his mouth. He dropped the bag on the table.

Sam looked between Dean and Amie. "Did you tell her?" he asked.

Amie's head shot up and she glared at Dean. "Tell me what?"

"No, actually, I didn't tell her yet," Dean answered. "I figured I'd wait until you got back and we could discuss it." Dean shot Sam a pissed look.

Sam shrugged apologetically. He turned to Amie, pulled a doughnut out of the bag, placed it in front of her and launched into a long, drawn out explanation of their plans, which included Amie staying with the boys, ditching her car and holing up at the bunker. Once there, they could work together to figure out what was going on. Dean tuned out what Sam was saying and watched Amie. Her forehead was creased in concentration as she listened. Her eyes flashed in anger as Sam talked, but Dean didn't think it was anger with either of them, but rather the situation. She was very independent and giving that up was not going to be easy for her. Once Sam was done talking, Amie sat sipping her coffee and staring at the maple doughnut Sam had given her. When she finally spoke, Dean could hear the resignation in her voice.

"Okay. I don't think we have any other choice anyway. We need to figure out why this is happening." Amie pushed her hair out of her face and looked at Dean. "Whatever I need to do, I'll do it."

Dean was relieved that she wasn't going to argue. Now they just needed to get back to the bunker as quickly as possible. Dean wouldn't feel like Amie was completely safe until that happened. The sooner they got on the road, the better.


	11. Chapter 11

**Chapter Eleven **

Amie stretched out in the backseat of the Impala, trying to get comfortable. She had folded her jacket into a makeshift pillow and shoved it under her head. She adjusted her iPod headphones and turned up the volume. She wanted to sleep. Maybe if she slept she could forget everything that was happening. She could feel the overwhelming need to cry taking over. She put her arm over her eyes, hoping she could stop the tears. She also hoped she could block out Dean. His need to constantly check on her in the rearview mirror was starting to get on her nerves. She knew he and Sam were waiting for the other shoe to drop, so to speak. Amie wasn't sure it was going to though.

She'd managed to suck up her anger and irritation and agreed to do what the boys wanted. But that didn't mean that she didn't feel justified in pouting just a little bit. When they were finally ready to leave, Amie had thrown her stuff in the back of the Impala without a glance at either Dean or Sam. She'd spent the first fifty miles of the eleven hundred miles of the trip to Lebanon, Kansas leaning against the seat, sunglasses on, watching Dean watch her. Amie had finally grown tired of seeing the concerned look on his face, so that was when she had put her iPod on and laid down. What Dean didn't seem to understand was that once Sam had explained what they needed to do, she had been surprisingly calm. She knew he was right, so arguing was pointless. Especially now that she and Dean were "involved," her being away from the Winchesters in any way was dangerous. Not only for her, but for him and Sam. Obviously, someone or something was after them. She couldn't handle it if something happened to Dean. She'd barely lived through losing those closest to her once before, and she knew she couldn't do it again. As Amie drifted off, her mind unwittingly pulled her into those memories.

_There were days Amie couldn't remember why she had become a teacher. Today was one of those days. She wanted to scream and throw things, but then she'd just be acting like one of the junior high students she taught. The only thing getting her through the night was the thought that her husband, Frank, and her son, Joseph, were home waiting for her. She was anxious to hear about Joseph's first football practice and eat the dinner Frank had promised to make. She glanced at her watch for the third time, knowing she wouldn't be leaving for a while. Her last parent-teacher conference was scheduled at 8:00 and she still had to straighten up her classroom. Hopefully it wouldn't take her long. _

_It was after 9:00 when Amie finally pulled into the driveway. Frank's truck was in its usual spot, but she couldn't see any lights on in the house. She pulled her sweater tighter as she got out of the car; early October in Montana was always chilly. She peered around the yard, trying to see into the shadows, feeling like something just wasn't right. She moved slowly to the front door, on edge. She considered going back to her car to get the gun Frank insisted she carry, but she felt ridiculous even thinking it. The boys were most likely in the kitchen at the back of the house and she just couldn't see any lights. Wouldn't Frank just love it if she burst in on them sitting and talking, her gun waving wildly? She giggled at the image._

_Amie pushed open the front door, setting her stuff down on the table in the hallway. "Hello?" she called. No one answered, but she thought she heard the television in the other room. The light switch by the door had been broken for a couple of weeks, so Amie moved down the hall to turn on the light in the living room. It was a small lamp that cast a very dim glow. No one was in the living room, but Amie noticed what looked like chocolate milk spilled in a trail across the wood floor. What the hell? It seemed to continue on into the other room, Frank's office. Amie felt the muscles in her stomach tighten with dread. She took a couple of steps forward and bent down, putting the tips of her fingers in the dark colored liquid on the floor. She brought her hand up toward her face, finally seeing that it wasn't chocolate milk, but blood, that was coating her fingers. Something inside her snapped and she shot to her feet, bursting into the office. The streetlight outside cast just enough light for Amie to see both her husband and her son lying on the floor. Frank had his gun clenched in his hand and he was reaching toward Joseph. Her son was curled in a ball on his side, blood covering the floor around him. He had been nearly torn apart. Frank's head looked like a burst melon, his familiar face unrecognizable. Amie hitched in a breath and screamed, stumbling backwards until her back hit the wall. She slid down until she sat on her haunches, her arms wrapped around her legs, tears streaming down her face, screams coming from her mouth. That was how the police found her._

Amie felt the scream rising in her throat. She was just able to force herself awake before it escaped. She shot into a sitting position, her hands flailing at her headphones and pulling them out of her ears. Tears were running down her face. She tried to breathe, but she felt like she was suffocating. Her heart felt like it was going to pound out of her chest. She met Dean's startled eyes in the rearview mirror. As she tried desperately breathe, she felt the Impala slow and drift to the side of the road. Dean was yelling something incomprehensible. A second later, the door flew open and Dean was pulling her out of the car. He held her by the upper arms, muttering something she couldn't understand. Amie shook her head and grasped his shirt. She knew she was having a panic attack, she knew she needed to calm down, ground herself somehow. She rested her head against Dean's chest, listening to the sound of his heart beating, feeling his chest rise and fall. She tried to match her breathing to his. He seemed to understand what she needed, because he stopped talking, wrapped his arms around her and just held her. They stood like that until Amie could take a deep breath, until her heart was no longer racing.

Finally, Dean stepped back and looked at her. "Alright, what the hell was that?" he questioned.

Amie wiped her the tears from her face. "It was a panic attack. They started after my son and husband…." Amie's breath caught in her throat. "…after they died. I haven't had one in forever, but I fell asleep thinking about how I couldn't live through something like that again and then I was remembering it as I dreamt, and it just, well, I…." Amie ran out of words, unable to finish her sentence. She was crying again.

"Okay, okay. It's alright." Dean pulled her back into his arms. She clutched at him, desperate to keep him close. She hadn't felt like this in so long, not since those horrible weeks and months after the death of her family. Over the last year, if she felt a panic attack coming on she was able to calm herself down and stop it. She hadn't expected this one. It had to be because of Dean. He was the first person she had allowed herself to care about since Frank and Joseph had died, and now the thought of losing him had set off the attacks. Amie knew she would have to really work to get herself back under control.

Sam patted Amie's shoulder awkwardly. "We didn't know. Sorry. I mean, I knew they had died. We just didn't…." Sam shrugged. "Well, you've never talked about it."

Sam was right. Amie had never talked about it. She rarely did. Most people—people being other hunters—were aware that her family had been killed and that it had been what pushed her into the life of a hunter. It was just that after their deaths she chose to shut off that part of her life and move forward, killing the evil that was invading the world. If she could keep just one family from going through what she had, than she felt like she had helped. That was all. There wasn't anything else to talk about.

"Yeah, Sam, you're right. I don't talk about it. I don't need to. Look, sorry about what happened, but I'm okay. Let's just go." She moved to get back in the car and was surprised when Sam stopped her. Dean looked surprised, too.

"I'll sit back here. You go sit up front for now. But don't expect to pick the music. According to Dean, driver picks the music, shotgun shuts his cakehole." Sam laughed and maneuvered his lanky frame into the backseat of the Impala. Sam popped his head out for a second, "Unless you're gonna let her drive, Dean."

"Pfffft, yeah, right," Dean scoffed. "In her dreams." Dean gently pushed her away. "Get in the car."

"Yes sir," Amie smiled and walked around the back of the Impala. She took another deep breath before pulling open the Impala's door and climbing inside.


	12. Chapter 12

**Chapter Twelve**

Dean was exhausted. He'd been driving for hours. He couldn't wait to go to sleep. Now that he had given Amie a tour and introduced her to Kevin, he was rushing through the bunker toward his room. There was another empty room just down the hall from him and that's where he planned on having Amie stay. The closer the better, otherwise he'd worry about her safety, even in the bunker. He shook his head, surprised at the thoughts running through his head. He hadn't felt like this since Lisa had been a part of his life and that worried him. "That ended so well," he thought sarcastically.

When Dean finally reached his destination, he opened the door and reached in to turn on the light. Amie pushed past him, looking around. Dean watched her closely, looking her up and down. She seemed to still be moving slowly, but it had only been 24 hours since her encounter with the demons and she had just spent 12 hours in the car. She needed rest as much as he did. Once Amie had made a full circle of the room, she walked back to Dean.

"Go, get some sleep. You look like you're going to collapse," she said. "I can get myself settled."

Dean tried to smile, but he was too tired. "Okay, but if you need anything…."

Amie interrupted him. "If I need anything, I'll figure it out. If I'm going to be held hostage for my own good, I need to learn my way around, right? Go. Sleep." She pushed Dean toward the door.

"Okay, okay," he laughed. "But first…." Dean grabbed Amie and kissed her deeply. She kissed him back, wrapping her arms around his waist. But she pushed him away after just a couple of seconds. "Nope," she laughed. "Don't even think about it. Go get some sleep, now." Amie pushed him out the door.

Dean walked down the hall to his room. All he could think about was sleep. He dropped his bag on the floor, shedding his clothes as walked across the room. He fell down face first on the bed, thoughts of Amie running through his head as he slipped to sleep.

_Amie's hands were everywhere. Dean felt her touch on every inch of his skin, her lips leaving trails of heat as they skimmed his chest and stomach, her hands rubbing his biceps. But when he tried to touch her, she pushed his hands away. She crawled up his body until she was sprawled across him, every part of her body touching him. He tried again to touch her, but again she pushed his hands away. Her lips moved up his neck to his mouth. She gently forced his mouth open with her tongue, sliding her body along his until she was hovering over him as she kissed him. She kept his hands pinned on either side of his head and despite being stronger than her, he couldn't free his hands to touch her. This wasn't how he had imagined this going at all. Amie released one of his hands and her nails traced the anti-possession tattoo on his chest. Suddenly, she dug her nails into the skin around the tattoo, drawing blood, pushing deep into the skin._

_"What the fuck?" Dean yelled, as he looked at the blood running down his chest toward the clean white sheets on the bed._

_Amie laughed._

_That wasn't right. Dean shook his head to clear it and looked Amie in the face. She stared back at him, a strange look on her face. Then she blinked once, leaving her eyes closed a split second longer than necessary. When she opened them, they were completely black._

_"What's the matter, Dean? Does it hurt? Or are you afraid of a little blood?" The demon that had taken over Amie asked. She leaned forward and licked the blood from his chest, laughing deep in her throat. Dean watched her, unable to move. "You know, she's screaming in here. Screaming for me to stop. Crying out of fear, for you. Begging me to let you go. It's actually sort of cute." Demon Amie pushed her nails deeper into Dean's skin. Dean clenched his teeth but he didn't utter a sound. "Come on, sweetie, give her a little scream. Let her know how much fun we're having." The demon continued digging Amie's nails under his skin, but there was no way he was screaming. He wouldn't give it the satisfaction._

_"What…what…do you want?" Dean stammered._

_Demon Amie grinned and leaned down to whisper in Dean's ear. "Oh sweetie, how quickly you forget. And I thought we had such a nice conversation before. I want you, Dean. I told you, you give a girl all sorts of nasty ideas."_

_Dean's head shot up. "Abbadon?"_

_The demon laughed. "See, you do remember me." She traced a finger down Dean's face. "Don't worry, baby, I don't want to kill you, not yet. I just want to find you. And I promise I will. If I have to destroy everything and everyone important to you to do it, I will. Sam. Kevin. Castiel. And this one, the woman. Maybe I'll start with her." Abbadon shook Amie's head, red hair flying. When she stopped, Amie was gone and Abbadon's red-headed meat suit sat staring at Dean._

Dean's eyes flew open. As he'd slept, he must have flailed around the bed, because the sheets were wrapped tightly around his body. He took several deep breaths, his heart racing. He sat up, put his head in his hands and tried to wipe the images of the dream from his head. It had seemed so real, so damn real. The blood, Abbadon, Amie with black demon eyes. He threw the blankets off and grabbed his robe from the back of the door. He couldn't shake the feeling of foreboding, the feeling that something just wasn't right. He needed to find Amie, just to check that she was okay. The dream had spooked him.

He hurried out of his bedroom, down the hall to Amie's room. He knocked, but didn't wait for an answer, instead opening the door and going in. She wasn't in the room and when he looked in the small attached bathroom, she wasn't there either. He kept telling himself it had just been a dream. So, why was he so freaked out that Amie wasn't right where he had left her? Dean turned and practically ran out of the room.

As he rounded the corner to the door of the main room, Dean heard voices. Sam's and Kevin's for sure, but not Amie's. Where the hell was she? Shit, what if she had found Crowley and something had happened? Dean burst through the door, eyes darting around the room until they finally settled on Amie. She was sitting at the table with her laptop, laughing at something Kevin was pointing at on the screen. When she saw Dean, she set her coffee cup on the table and straightened in her seat, a worried expression crossing her face. Dean moved quickly across the room, pushing Kevin out of his way. He grabbed her hands and knelt on the floor in front of her, looking into her blue eyes. He almost expected them to flash black considering how realistic the dream had been. When nothing happened, he stood up and placed a hand on either side of her chair. He could see the confused looks that Sam and Kevin were exchanging out of the corner his eye. He knew they were going to want an explanation. Too bad they wouldn't get one. He bent forward and kissed Amie on the corner of her mouth.

"Hey," he said, turning around. "What's for breakfast?"


	13. Chapter 13

**Chapter Thirteen**

Amie could tell something was up with Dean as soon as he entered the room. He had looked flustered and unsure, characteristics she was not accustomed to seeing from him. He seemed to calm down once he saw her, but Amie couldn't be entirely sure because she knew how good he was at hiding how he felt. After nearly knocking Kevin over to get to her and then nonchalantly kissing her, he poured himself a cup of coffee and took a seat next to her. She tried to catch his eye, but he wouldn't look at her. He just sat there, acting like nothing was out of the ordinary. Amie could tell he was hiding something.

Dean was all business as soon as he sat down. He looked at Sam and Kevin. "So, anything? Kev, you get anything off of the tablet? How to kill Abbadon? Or even how to send her back to Hell?" Kevin shook his head, black hair flopping in his eyes. Dean turned to his brother. "Sammy? Has Crowley said anything? Did you talk to him yet? He has to know something about the Knights of Hell, we just need to find out what it is."

"Wait, what?" Amie interjected. "Crowley? You guys are talking to Crowley? And who the hell is Abbadon?" She looked back and forth from Dean to Sam. When neither of the boys would look at her nor answer her, she slammed her hand down on the table, hard enough to hurt. Dean winced and Sam looked concerned. "God dammit, you guys have to tell me what the hell is going on!" Amie stood up and walked several steps away. She needed answers and she wasn't going to be distracted by Dean. "Look, I agreed to come here and go on 'lockdown,' hoping that would at least keep me in the loop." Amie could feel her voice rising, along with her temper. "You guys need to realize that I'm not some stupid, helpless female that will cower in fear in a corner, waiting for the hero to swoop in and save her. I've been hunting for more than three years, and I've managed to stay alive. I think I can deal with whatever is going on. Now somebody start talking."

Amie waited. Dean and Sam looked at each other. Sam took a breath, opened his mouth and then closed it again. Dean just looked at her, not saying anything. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Kevin shift uncomfortably. She had almost forgotten he was there.

Kevin spoke up. "Crowley's here. Locked up. He's been here for a while." He looked at Dean and Sam and shrugged. "Sorry, guys."

Amie tried to breathe. She was pissed, more pissed than she had been in a long time. All the talk about figuring this out together, working together, had been just a line of bullshit. They were hiding things from her, so either they thought she couldn't handle it or they thought they couldn't trust her. Damn Winchesters! They were always so pompous and full of themselves. She clenched and unclenched her hands, feeling the need to punch something. Preferably Dean. She should have known honesty was way more than Dean could handle.

Without saying a word, Amie turned to leave the room. She noticed Dean get up to follow her. She put her hand up and said, "Don't. Seriously. Don't follow me Dean. Not now."

She practically ran back to her room. She pushed the door closed and turned the lock. She felt the tears coming, threatening to overwhelm her. She slid to the floor, wrapped her arms around her legs, rested her head on her knees and let the tears flow. All of the anger, pain and frustration of the last few days came to the surface. She pressed her lips together, trying to stifle the sobs.

Amie cried until she was exhausted and drained. She managed to push herself into a standing position and stagger to the bed. She had only slept four hours the night before and the crying stint she'd just had took a lot out of her. She threw herself on the bed, hoping against hope that she could sleep for just a little while. Her sleeping pills were in the glove box of the Mini, she hadn't grabbed them when they hid the car. She would just have to try to sleep on her own.

After about 45 minutes of staring at the wall, Amie decided sleeping was apparently out of the question. She propped some pillows against the headboard and sat up. Her brain was in overdrive, thoughts tumbling through her mind one after another. She couldn't sort them out. She rubbed her hand across her face and through her hair. Frustration and uncertainty made her rethink every decision she had made in the last two days—trusting the boys, agreeing to come to the bunker, even her choice to try to have a relationship with Dean. She was going to have to stay away from Dean for the next few days. She needed to figure out what she wanted to do. What she needed to do. Amie knew Dean came with baggage, after all that was the Winchester way. He was intense, guilt-ridden, over-the-top and difficult to reason with, and she had to decide if that mattered or not. She did know that she wanted him there at night when she fell asleep and there when she woke up. She wanted his arms around her and his lips on hers. She wanted Dean and no one else. Truth be told, she was in love with Dean. But was it going to be worth everything that came with it?

Just then there was a knock on the door. It had to be Dean. He would swoop in here and try to charm her into forgetting that he hadn't been honest or trusted her enough to tell her the truth. Amie stood up and crossed to the door. Just before opening it, she took a minute to give herself a pep talk. She wouldn't fall for his charms, she wouldn't fall victim to those gorgeous green eyes or that irresistible smirk. She pulled the door open.

But instead of Dean standing on the other side of the door, it was Sam.

"Hi," he said quietly. "Can I come in for a minute?"

"Umm, yeah, sure." Amie pulled the door open all the way and backed into the room. Sam followed her in, leaving the door open behind him. Amie sat down on the bed and watched Sam sit stiffly in an uncomfortable wooden chair by the small table.

Amie spoke first. "I wasn't expecting you. I figured Dean would come in here and try to charm me into not being angry. What, did you guys decide that maybe the innocent, puppy-dog-eyes would work better? Or are you paving the way for him, trying to smooth things over?"

Sam looked uncomfortable. "Good," Amie thought. She waited impatiently for him to say something, her foot tapping on the floor.

"Look, I know you're pissed. And for good reason. We should have told you about Crowley and Abbadon. But really, we're flying by the seat of our pants here. Figuring it out as we go along." Sam stopped and seemed to think about the next thing he was going to say. He scooted forward on the chair and lowered his voice. "Try not to be too mad at him, Amie. His intentions were good. He was trying to protect you."

"Do not talk to me about good intentions," Amie hissed. "Don't patronize me. That's not the way the world we live in works. Good intentions don't mean shit, Sam, and you know it, probably better than anyone. I don't need nor do I want to be protected. I can take care of myself."

Amie closed her eyes, putting her head in her hands. No sound came from Sam for the next few minutes. When Amie finally looked at Sam, he was just watching her, waiting. "I really can take care of myself."

"I know that, I really do. And I think Dean does too. But he is a natural protector, so you aren't going to change him. He just wants to keep you safe." Sam's eyes pleaded with Amie to understand.

"Keep me safe from what?" Amie asked, exasperated.

Sam shrugged. "Abbadon. Crowley. Everything. He really wasn't trying to piss you off. We talked about it and I know he's sorry." Amie made a point of looking around the room.

"He would have come in here himself, but he was afraid you'd shoot him." Sam grinned. "Where is your gun, anyway?"

Amie pointed to the nightstand, where her gun was next to the lamp. Sam laughed again. "Look, why don't you come out and help us? We think we have a lead on a demon that may have helped Abbadon. I promise, we'll tell you as much as we can, or at least as much as we know. Okay?"

Amie nodded in agreement. "This doesn't mean those puppy dog eyes worked though. And I'm still pissed." She didn't plan on forgiving anybody that easily. First, she'd have to see how things went for the next couple of days.


	14. Chapter 14

**Chapter Fourteen**

Dean wasn't sure he'd ever felt more awkward and uncomfortable than he had over the last several days. Amie was still avoiding him. Even though they had told her as much as they could about Crowley, Abbadon and even the angels falling from Heaven, she still seemed pissed. When he'd first tried talking to her, she had just sat staring at him while he stammered out lame excuse after lame excuse, until she'd finally cut him off. "Enough, Dean. I got it," she'd said, rolling her eyes. Since then, they'd exchanged maybe ten or fifteen sentences total. At night, she'd close herself in her room and during the day she would avoid any unnecessary contact—she'd sit on the opposite side of the table from him while they did research, or worse, excuse herself to leave when he walked in. She'd been spending a lot of time on the gun range; Dean could hear the distant popping of her weapon several times a day. She'd also thrown herself into the research on the demon they were trying to find. She had spent hours and hours on her laptop and combing through books. Dean figured she was just trying to keep herself busy.

He wasn't sure what he needed to do to fix what was wrong. Well, he did know, it just wasn't that easy for him. Apologizing had never been something he was good at doing. Every time he tried to talk to her, whatever he was trying to say came out sounding stupid and clichéd. He knew he could _show_ her how sorry he was, but she was doing her best to avoid being alone with him. Sam kept telling him to give her time, but Dean was impatient and it had already been four days. He needed to make things right with her, sooner rather than later.

"Alright, I've looked everywhere and tried everything," Sam said, interrupting Dean's thoughts. "I think we have to talk to Crowley. Figure out a way to get him to help us find Abbadon. Or at least this demon we can supposedly use to get to her. What do think?"

"Yeah, you're right. I can't think of anything else. But you know he's all about that 'quid pro quo' shit. What's he going to want in return?" Dean rubbed a hand down his face.

"What's 'who' going to want for what?" Amie asked as she walked in the room. Dean felt his eyes widen at the sight of her. She must have been working out; she was wearing tight yoga pants and a tank top, her hair was pulled back in a messy ponytail and she was covered lightly in sweat. When she turned her back to him to pour herself some coffee, he put his head down, banging it lightly on the table several times. She was literally trying to kill him. Sam grinned sympathetically and patted his arm.

"Crowley," Sam answered, "he always wants something, when and if we can get him to give up any information. Problem is, we never know what 'It' is going to be."

Amie sat down across the table, propping her feet on the chair next to her, listening to Sam talk about Crowley. Dean watched every move she made. It was driving him crazy that he hadn't touched her in days. It was practically taking all of his self-control to keep himself in his chair. His eyes roamed every inch of her body, watching her lips, her hands, listening to her voice. She was very distracting.

As Dean stared at Amie, it occurred to him that maybe she was just the distraction they needed. And while he hated the thought of taking her anywhere near the King of Hell, she would love the challenge. Plus, it could get him one step closer to forgiveness, if Amie thought he trusted her enough to help. It just might work. Dean interrupted Sam. "I think I know how to get Crowley to talk."

* * *

"Remember, don't cross into the devil's trap. Stay on its outer edge. I don't want you too close to him," Dean told Amie for what he figured was the tenth time.

"I know, Dean," she sighed from behind him. "It's not like I haven't dealt with demons before."

Dean stopped so abruptly Amie ran into him. He turned around and took her by the upper arms. Sam stopped a few feet behind them, leaning against the wall. "Yes, but you haven't dealt with the King of Hell before. He's a whole new ball game. I don't want you hurt, so we're not taking any chances, do you understand me?" Amie nodded at him, staring into his face. Dean pulled her closer and whispered in her ear, "I cannot handle losing you. So please, _please_, just do as I ask." Dean felt her nod against his cheek. He let her go and resumed walking down the hall.

Dean couldn't believe it had been his idea to introduce Amie to Crowley. It literally went against every fiber of his being to be taking her to him. But once he had suggested it, there was no taking it back. Both Sam and Amie had thought it was a good idea and it might work. After all, Crowley loved a pretty face. And Dean figured once Crowley knew about his relationship with her, it would make him all sorts of talkative. He wouldn't be able to resist trying to get Amie to talk about Dean. Maybe they could use that to get some information.

When they reached the door to the room they kept Crowley in, Dean gestured Sam forward. Sam stepped in front of Amie, shoulder to shoulder with Dean. Dean wanted to block Crowley's view of her when they entered, hopefully taking him by surprise. Sam pushed open the door.

"Well, look who came to visit," Crowley crooned. "My two favorite hunters, Moose and Squirrel. I've missed our talks so much. Especially with you, Sam." Crowley smiled the smirky little smile that always made Dean want to punch his face, this time being no exception.

Dean stepped forward, slightly ahead of Sam, Amie still behind them. "We have a few questions for you. Thought maybe you'd be willing to talk."

Crowley stared at the ceiling. "Seriously, with the bothersome questions again. Really, Dean? You are so boring. Where's that Kevin kid? Now he's interesting." Crowley winked at him.

Dean looked at Sam and nodded. They each took a step to the side at the same time that Amie stepped forward. She took Dean's hand, intertwining her fingers with his. He squeezed her hand and pulled her closer. She seemed to know exactly how to get Crowley's attention.

Dean noticed Crowley's eyes widen slightly. He licked his lips twice, looking Amie up and down. "Well, hello gorgeous. And who might you be?" He looked at Amie holding Dean's hand and turned his attention to him. "Don't tell me you went and got yourself a girlfriend, Dean? And a pretty one at that. Whatever does she see in you? I'd have thought the girls would prefer the taller brother."

Dean kept his mouth shut and watched Amie closely. She smiled, her blue eyes shining. Dean recognized the look on her face. It was the one she got when she knew what she wanted and exactly how she was going to get it. She stepped closer to Crowley, but Dean noticed she didn't cross the devil's trap or let go of his hand. "Aren't you just adorable? All chained up and trapped." Amie laughed, the sound bouncing off the walls of the room. "My name's Amie. And you're Crowley, right? I've heard so much about you. I thought maybe you and I could have a chat."

Dean saw Crowley shift slightly in his chair. He looked confused, which was not a look Dean was accustomed to seeing on his face. Dean couldn't help but smile. Amie had Crowley right where she wanted him. This could end up being fun.

Crowley turned out to surprisingly chatty, warming up to Amie immediately. He seemed to like her, which made Dean very nervous. Of course, he'd been full of questions, most of which Amie seemed willing to answer. The only ones she refused to answer were the ones about her feelings for Dean. Those were the ones Dean wished she would answer. She just told Crowley she'd answer them at another time.

"Alright, I answered your questions," she finally said after more than an hour of talking with Crowley. She glanced at Dean. "Some of which were very personal, I might add. I talked, now you talk. What's the name of the demon?"

Crowley sat quietly for a minute before answering. "Chase Price. He's in Arkansas. And will you do me a favor, love? Stop Abbadon. I really don't want that bitch taking over Hell." Crowley winked at Amie. Dean saw her shudder.

Amie rose from the chair she'd been sitting in, obviously ready to leave. Dean stood up from his spot by the door. He hadn't left the room the entire time she'd been in there. Sam had left after a while, saying he had better things to do than listen to Crowley ask Amie about her sex life. But Dean had stayed, moving across the room to lean against the wall by the door. There was no way he was leaving Amie alone with Crowley, even if she was following all of his rules.

Before Dean could get Amie out the door, Crowley spoke up one more time. "Don't be a stranger, love. I really enjoyed our little visit."

Dean was proud of her; she didn't even flinch, let alone turn around. Instead, she pulled the door open and walked out. Dean followed close behind.

Amie was hurrying down the hallway. Dean was right behind her, but he wasn't saying anything. He was waiting to see what she was going to do. Once she hit the door to the library, she turned around and put her hand on his chest. He looked down at her hand, then into her eyes, a question on his lips.

"That's far enough, Dean. I'm going to get cleaned up. You go in there," Amie pointed to the library, "and get started finding this Chase Price guy." Dean was disappointed and he knew it showed on his face. Amie briefly clutched his shirt where her hand still rested on his chest. "I know we need to talk and I promise we will. Just let me wash the stench of Crowley out of my hair and off of my skin. Okay?"

Dean nodded his agreement and turned to go. He stopped when Amie grabbed his arm. When he turned back to her, she gave him a quick kiss on the cheek. He smiled, relief flooding him. As he watched her continue down the hallway, he hoped that kiss had meant that he was forgiven.

* * *

Dean could hear a blow dryer on the other side of the door, so he knocked loudly.

"Come in!" he heard Amie yell.

Dean opened the door and stuck his head in. "Hey, you hungry?" He held up two sandwiches and a couple bottles of water.

"Yeah, actually I am. Just let me finish up." Amie grabbed her brush and pulled it through her hair. Dean sat at a small table near the door, just watching her. He could tell that she was almost fully recovered from her injuries. There was no stiffness in her movements or wincing in pain like there had been earlier in the week. He wondered if the bruises were fading, but since Amie was wearing jeans and a button-down shirt, he couldn't see anything.

Amie tossed her brush on the counter and came to sit at the table with Dean. They ate in silence for a few minutes, avoiding eye contact. Dean felt like they were each waiting for the other one to say something. Finally, he couldn't take it any longer. He stood up and pulled his chair closer to Amie's, until their knees were touching. He reached out and took her hands.

He knew he needed to say something. If he had any hope of salvaging what he had with her, he was going to have to apologize. Very quietly he whispered, "I'm sorry."

Amie looked up, a shocked look on her face. "What did you say?"

Dean felt uncomfortable, but he repeated himself. "I'm sorry. I screwed up. I kept things from you, thinking I was protecting you. I shouldn't have done it. It was stupid. I promise it won't happen again."

Amie sighed. Dean didn't know if that was good or bad. She sat watching him for a couple of minutes, her face blank and unreadable. But then she put her hands on either side of his face and kissed him. "Thank you," she said quietly. She kissed him again. And then again. Dean leaned forward and put his hands on Amie's waist, pulling her onto his lap. They sat like that for several minutes, kissing. Dean felt his excitement rise with each kiss.

Amie stood up, pulling Dean with her. She backed toward the bed, unbuttoning her shirt as she walked. Dean kept his eyes locked on hers as he followed her to the other side of the room. He pushed the bedroom door closed as he passed it. When he reached Amie, he lowered her to the bed. He pushed her shirt off and threw it on the floor. Dean spent the next several minutes exploring Amie's body. He slid his hand up her leg, stopping at her waist and unbuttoning her jeans. She lifted her hips so he could pull them off. He threw them on the floor with her shirt. He moved his mouth to her neck and began kissing and licking the sensitive area above her collar bone, his hands touching Amie everywhere. She sighed, tightly gripping Dean's arm. She slid her hands under his t-shirt, pushing it up. He reached over his head and pulled it off. Amie ran her hands over Dean's chest and back, pulling him closer with each kiss. The urgency of their kissing increased, until Dean thought he would burst. When Amie's hand moved to unbutton his jeans, Dean let out a low moan. He quickly stood up and pulled off his jeans and boxers. When he returned to the bed, Amie had removed her bra and panties, adding them to the pile of clothes on the floor. Dean paused to appreciate her body—the lean muscles coupled with the female curves. His eyes were drawn to the anti-possession tattoo in white ink on her lower right hip. He bent forward, his lips caressing the tattoo, then moving across her waist and up her stomach until his mouth settled on her breast. He heard Amie's sharp intake of breath as his tongue teased the nipple. Dean's hand moved below Amie's waist, caressing and exploring until she was panting with excitement. When he thought neither of them could hold back any longer, he moved over her, pushing forward with his hips. Amie grabbed the back of his head, bringing his mouth to hers, pulling him forward until he had entered her fully. They began moving in unison, the sounds of their lovemaking filling the room. Dean increased the movement of his hips as Amie's excitement grew in correlation with his, her moans coming louder and faster until neither of them could wait any longer. Dean's mouth found Amie's again as their bodies came together and exploded.


	15. Chapter 15

**Chapter Fifteen **

Amie was sleeping, sprawled across Dean's chest, his arms around her, both of their bodies twisted in the sheets. For some reason, she could hear a Led Zeppelin song coming from the floor. She ignored it and it finally stopped. But a couple of minutes later, she heard it again. It had to be Dean's phone. And it wasn't going to stop until someone answered it. She rolled off Dean and snagged his pants with her finger, pulling them toward her. She took his phone from the pocket and saw that it was Sam.

"Dean," she prodded gently, "Sam's calling you. Wake up." Dean stretched, rubbing his eyes with the back of his hand. He took the phone from her.

"Yeah, Sam, what is it?" Dean asked, his voice thick with sleep. "Mm, hmm. Okay. Yeah, give me 15 minutes. Yeah, I'll bring her with me." Dean ended the phone call and tossed the phone on the nightstand. He rolled over and pulled Amie close.

"Hi," she breathed, running her hands through his hair. She kissed him gently. "What did Sam want?"

"He said he needs to talk to us. He thinks they found Chase Price. I'm supposed to get you and bring you with me." Dean grinned an evil grin and starting kissing her neck.

"Well, if you keep doing that, we aren't getting anywhere in the next 15 minutes," Amie giggled, trying to push Dean away.

"Oh, I know," Dean answered. "Maybe that's my plan. To just stay here with you. I have a list as long as my arm of things I'd like to do to you. And all of them involve you naked." Dean nipped lightly at her earlobe, laughing.

"Hmmmm, as nice as that sounds, I'm pretty sure Sam would come looking for us and that could get really awkward." Amie reluctantly pulled away from Dean and reached for her clothes.

Dean sat up behind her and starting kissing her shoulders. "You're right, but that doesn't change the fact that I want to do it." He wrapped his arms around her waist, giving her a quick hug before getting up to put his clothes on. Amie felt a little sad; she liked this lighthearted Dean. They didn't get to see much of him.

Amie finished dressing quickly, as did Dean. Just as Amie was opening the door to leave the room, Dean pushed it closed, turned her around and leaned over her. "I'm forgiven, right?" he asked, all the playfulness of earlier gone from his voice.

Amie grabbed his chin with her hand. "Yes, you're forgiven. But don't do it again. The only thing I asked you for was honesty. And you screwed it up. I'm giving you a second chance. Don't blow it." She kissed him, drawing it out, savoring every second of it. She desperately wanted to tell Dean how she really felt, that she was in love with him, but she was too afraid. She was afraid of how it would change everything, afraid of how it might push him away. And because she didn't want to lose him, she kept her mouth shut.

"We need to go," Dean whispered, his lips moving against her mouth. "Sam will come looking for us soon."

Amie nodded and pulled the door open.

Dean kept a hold of Amie's hand as they walked down the hallway, his fingers intertwined with hers. Sam and Kevin were waiting in the library. Amie expected Dean to let go of her hand once they got where the others could see them. She was pleasantly surprised when he didn't.

Sam was sitting at the table, his laptop in front of him and a stack of papers next to it. Kevin was at the other end of the table, his head on his arms. He appeared to be asleep.

Sam stopped typing on the laptop when they walked in, glancing at them. When he noticed their clasped hands, his eyebrows shot up. He made a point of addressing Dean, a grin slowly spreading across his face. "Well, I guess I don't need to ask where you were. I went to your room a couple of hours ago. Now I know why you weren't there." He laughed before turning back to his laptop. "Come here and look at this, you two."

Amie followed Dean to stand behind Sam, where he was pointing to a picture on his laptop. It was Price. He looked to be in his mid-30s, with dark brown hair and brown eyes.

"That's Price. I found him in Rogers, Arkansas. That's about seven hours away," Sam said. "I figure we can head down there, settle in and figure out how to find him once we're there."

Amie saw Dean glance at her out of the corner of his eye. She knew what he was thinking, but there was no way he was leaving her behind.

"Don't even think it, Dean. I'm going, end of story. I'm sure the hell not staying here with Kevin," she said, the exasperation she was feeling coming out in her voice.

"Thanks," Kevin mumbled, his head still on his arms.

Dean shook his head, a pained expression on his face. Amie braced herself for an argument. But instead, Dean blew out a breath and said, "Okay. I know you want to go and arguing with you is pointless. If I don't let you go, you'll just try something stupid. At least if you're with us, I can keep an eye on you."

"Keep an eye on me," Amie scoffed. "Whatever." She was relieved and surprised she wouldn't have to argue with him. Hopefully that meant that he had figured out she was useful and that she didn't need constant protection. She knew that didn't mean he wouldn't try to be annoyingly overprotective, but at least maybe he understood somewhat.

"Alright, let's get moving," Dean said, taking charge. "Thirty minutes and we hit the road." Dean kissed her on the temple, his arm snaking around her waist. "Guns, knives, the whole nine yards. 'K?" Amie could see the worry in his green eyes. She nodded in agreement.

* * *

Amie hated long trips in the car, she always had. The only time she liked it was if she was driving. Which she wasn't. And, she was relegated to the backseat of the Impala. Sam had informed her that even if she was sleeping with his brother, the front passenger seat was his and he wasn't giving it up again anytime soon. So she was relieved when they passed the 'Rogers, Next 3 Exits' sign. Dean took the second exit and they were at the motel in a matter of minutes.

Sam was out of the car before Dean put the Impala in park and headed for the motel office. Amie saw Dean glance at her in the rearview mirror. "What?" she asked.

"We're getting one room," he answered.

"Okay," Amie replied, shrugging.

Dean turned around to look at her over the seat. "Okay? You're not mad?"

"No, Dean, I'm not mad. I think I understand what's at stake, now that it's been fully explained to me. I'm fine with it." She leaned forward to kiss him. "I feel bad for you, though, having to sleep on the floor," she joked, winking and ruffling his hair.

"Ha, ha, you're funny," Dean rolled his eyes.

Sam pulled the door to the Impala open, climbed in and said, "Room 15, on the end." He glanced at Amie in the back, then at Dean. "She didn't kill you? Damn."

Dean drove the Impala to the end of the building and backed it into the parking spot in front of their room. Amie and the boys quickly unloaded the trunk. Dean was on edge, his eyes constantly darting around, checking the parking lot and the surrounding buildings. He seemed to relax once they were in the room with the door locked.

While they had been in the car, they had discussed different ways of getting to Price. He lived alone, so taking him at home was an option. Plus, going to his house meant they didn't have to worry about any innocent people getting hurt. But going in someplace they had never seen and couldn't scout ahead of time was extremely dangerous. The other problem was, they had to assume that Price knew who the Winchesters were because he was one of Abbadon's underlings. That meant they couldn't go in under any of their other identities. They had never really decided what they were going to do, though several ideas had been batted around. Amie had an idea, but she knew Dean was going to take some convincing. She was waiting to bring it up once they figured out they were out of options.

"I still think we should just try to talk to him using the FBI identities. Maybe he doesn't know us by sight, just by name," Dean was saying.

Sam was shaking his head. "No. He'll know us the second he sees us. We have to figure out something else."

Amie was growing impatient. This had been going on now for hours, if you included the time in the car. She put her head down on the scuffed table and tried to take a deep breath. The boys bickering back and forth was getting on her nerves. God, they were so frustrating sometimes.

"Alright!" Amie practically shouted. She was rewarded with both boys jumping slightly. "You've been going over and over the same thing for an hour. Plus in the car. Why don't we just stop being ridiculous and realize _I_ am the only option? More than likely, this Price guy doesn't know who I am. Just because a couple of low-level demons knew who I was doesn't mean the higher-ups know me. Crowley didn't know me and he's the freaking King of Hell."

"No, absolutely not." Dean immediately said. Amie just stared at him. Dean continued, "We don't know that he _doesn't_ know who you are. If we send you in there alone, you could get killed."

"I'll be fine. We'll check out where he works first. So, I'll be in a crowded place and you guys can set yourselves up close by. I'll go in, assess the situation and get out. Fifteen minutes." Amie explained.

Dean stood up and starting pacing as she spoke. She could see his anger building with each word she said. When she stopped talking she just watched him. She turned to Sam, her eyes pleading for help.

"Dean." Sam waited for Dean to stop pacing and look at him. "Dean!" Sam yelled. Dean stopped, but he was pissed, if the deadly look he gave Sam was any indication.

"I said no!" Dean growled.

"I know what you said," Sam said, sitting up straight in his chair. "But Amie's right. She's the only one who can go in. Look, the guy the demon's possessing works at a bank as a loan officer. He goes in every day to keep up appearances. Kev and I think it's how he makes deals; he finds the people who are truly desperate for money and uses that to secure their soul. Amie can go in on the pretense of trying to get a loan. Fifteen minutes, probably less.

Dean ran his fingers through his hair, the frustration obvious on his face. He looked between Amie and Sam, the look on his face one of resignation. "Alright, do it. But it has to be quick. And for God's sake you have to be careful," he finally said.

Amie crossed the room to Dean in two quick strides and kissed him. "Of course, I promise."

* * *

Amie smoothed her skirt as she walked out of the bank. That had gone so much better than she had expected. She had gotten right in to see Price and she felt like she had played the helpless "I need money for my cookie company more than I need air to breathe" part quite well. In fact, she'd played it so well that Price had invited her out for drinks later that night, supposedly to talk about her loan. Amie suspected that he thought he could make her a deal for her soul. Of course, she'd agreed. Now she just had to tell Dean.

She hurried down the street, trying to spot the Impala. Just then, her cell phone rang. She dug it out of her purse. "Dean," she said, "where are you?"

"I'm right behind you. Don't turn around. Sam's in the car. But, just in case Price has someone following you, we want you to catch a cab. Give the driver the address I just texted to you. We'll pick you up there."

Amie spotted a cab up ahead. She rushed to get in, giving the driver the address from her cell phone. A few minutes later, she saw the Impala out of the corner of her eye, turning down a side street. It only took about ten minutes for the cab to reach her destination. She gave the driver some cash and got out. She waited for him drive off, before hurrying around the side of the building and climbing into the Impala.

Sam was driving, so Dean turned around in his seat to ask her what had happened at the bank. She quickly explained most of what had happened, leaving out the part about Price asking her out.

"Good, now we just need to figure out a way to catch him out alone. Then we can grab him and take him somewhere to get him to talk," Dean concluded.

"I have that figured out, too," Amie volunteered.

"You what?" Dean demanded.

"He wants to meet me for drinks," Amie responded. "He gave me his number and I'm supposed to call him. So, I call him, arrange a meeting place of my choice and you guys grab him. Easy-peasy-lemon-squeezy." Amie shrugged. She watched Dean's face, surprised not to see any anger.

Dean was quiet for several minutes. Amie could see the struggle he was going through on his face. "Okay," Dean finally agreed. "I think it'll work. But I get to decide the meeting place. Sam, when we get to the motel, you work on finding someplace we can take him." Dean gave Amie a pained smile. "And you, my dear, you get to get ready for your date."


	16. Chapter 16

**Chapter Sixteen **

Dean felt sick to his stomach. He'd only agreed to this because he honestly saw no other option. The chance to catch Price had almost literally fallen into their laps and he would be stupid to not take it. But his nerves were on edge and he wasn't sure how long he could keep his cool. Dean watched carefully as Amie put the finishing touches on her make-up. She looked gorgeous, of course. Her long hair hung down her back, shining. She was wearing skinny jeans, high-heeled boots and a low cut t-shirt and a blazer. She was showing a little too much cleavage as far as Dean was concerned, but with the mood he was in, a turtleneck would have shown too much cleavage.

Dean checked his watch. He needed to concentrate on the plan, which was all he could do. They were scheduled to leave in 10 minutes. Always stick to the schedule, that's what his father had taught him. They had to be at the bar in 20 minutes and Sam was meeting Dean in 30 minutes. That was as far as they had been able to plan out, so of course, what happened after that was the part of the plan Dean couldn't stop thinking about. How long would Amie have to be alone with Price, how long until she could lure him outside? How long until he had her back with him, safe? Too long. Dean kept going over and over every possible scenario, knowing that it still wouldn't work out like they'd planned.

"I think I'm ready," Amie announced. She threw her stuff in her duffle bag, zipped it up and dropped it by the door. She turned back to Dean. "How do I look?" she inquired as she crossed the room to stand beside him.

"Gorgeous. Too gorgeous," he said as he grabbed her and kissed her. "I don't like you looking this good for someone else, but especially not a demon." Dean took a deep breath. "Okay, weapons check. Where's your knife?"

"Left boot," Amie responded, holding up her leg and pulling the knife out slightly.

"Gun?" he inquired.

Amie pulled her .22 from the custom-made holster in her right boot. She popped the magazine, showing Dean that it was loaded. When he nodded his approval, she slid the magazine back into place and put it back in her boot.

"Satisfied?" she asked.

"No, I'd only be satisfied if you wouldn't do this. But I'm out of luck on that one, so…," Dean didn't finish his sentence, instead he kissed Amie again, his hands running up and down her arms. "Sure you won't change your mind?"

"Yes," she replied. Dean thought she sounded out of breath.

Dean looked at his watch. Time to go.

They had rented Amie a Ford Edge, a nice non-descript vehicle that hopefully no one would notice. Amie drove and Dean sat in the passenger seat. A couple of miles before they got to the bar, Dean would move to the backseat, where Amie had thrown a blanket for him to hide under. That way, it would look like Amie had arrived at the bar alone. Once she was inside, Dean would leave the rental and meet up with Sam.

Dean kept his hand on Amie's thigh as she drove. He needed to be close to her, touch her, before he let her purposely go into such a dangerous situation without him. Amie put her hand on his and squeezed it.

"I'll be fine," she said quietly.

Dean didn't respond. He wished he could be sure that was the case. He knew she was a capable hunter, in fact, she was a great hunter. But the fact that he had feelings for this woman put everything in a different perspective. No matter how good she was, he didn't want her near anything that could hurt, or worse yet, kill her. She was too important to him.

* * *

Dean looked at his watch for what had to be the tenth time in five minutes. Amie had been in the bar for well over an hour. He'd tried texting her, but she hadn't answered. Sam was even starting to look worried.

"If she's not out in the next 10 minutes, we're going in," Dean muttered. Sam nodded his agreement.

Eight minutes had passed when Dean's phone vibrated in his hand. It was a text from Amie: "Price paying bar tab, out in less than 5." Dean showed the screen to Sam. In unison, they exited the Impala, moving quickly and quietly to where Amie had parked the rental car at the very back corner of the lot, under a stand of trees. They ducked behind a dumpster about 25 feet away. Dean pulled his gun from his jacket pocket, while Sam had Ruby's knife.

Less than five minutes later, just like she'd said, Amie came around the corner of the building, with the demon. She was giggling and wobbling as she walked, playing drunk. Price had his arm around her waist and appeared to be helping her stay upright. The sight of the demon touching Amie made Dean's blood boil. Sam had to put a hand on his shoulder to stop him from flying across the parking lot and shooting the demon in the head. When they reached the car, Price leaned Amie against the back door on the driver's side, one hand on either side of her, effectively trapping her.

Amie laughed, but Dean thought he saw her shoulders tense slightly. She put one hand against Price's chest, trying to push him back. "Easy there, pal. What's the rush?" Amie asked, her words purposely slurring. Price pushed himself closer, leaning down to whisper in her ear. A look of disgust crossed her face.

Dean wanted to jump out of his skin every time Price touched Amie. Shit, he didn't even have to touch her. Just the fact that he was breathing that close to her made him want to kill him. But Amie and the demon were in the wrong position and he couldn't go out in the open until they moved.

"Come on, come on sweetheart. Just a couple feet to the left" Dean coaxed silently.

"She needs to get him to move," Sam observed, voicing what Dean was thinking. "We can't do anything until she gets him in position."

"She knows, just give her a couple more minutes," Dean shot back, turning to look at Sam. "She'll take care of it." But his patience was wearing thin.

That's when Dean heard what sounded like a muffled scream come from Amie. He jumped to his feet and flew out from behind the dumpster, Sam close behind.

Price had his hand over Amie's mouth and he was trying to force her into the open front door of the car. She was putting up a hell of a fight. Before Dean could get to her, Amie shoved Price backward, pushing herself away from him, falling into the car as she did. When the demon came at her again, she planted both feet in his chest, the heels of her boots noticeably sinking into his gut, and pushed as hard as she could. Before he could regain his balance, Amie shot to her feet and kicked him square in the jaw. The demon spun to the right, his head hitting the side of the rental car. Before Dean even knew what was happening, Amie rushed Price, forcing him to the ground. Price tried to grab her, but Dean got to her first. He wrapped both arms around her waist, pulled her to her feet and backed away quickly. The demon tried to come after them, but he couldn't. Amie had managed to move him into a devil's trap, painted hours earlier and buried under dead leaves from the large trees shading the parking lot of the bar.

"Gotcha," Amie spit out at the demon. "Asshole."

* * *

Amie was rinsing the blood from Dean's hands, trying to stop the flow coming from the cut knuckles. Her touch was gentle and soothing. Dean leaned his head back against the torn couch and closed his eyes. His neck and shoulders ached from the punches he had been throwing at Price for the last two hours. Nothing he and Sam had tried had convinced the demon to talk. They had finally stopped out of sheer exhaustion.

Sam was sleeping, dead to the world, on the dining room floor of the rundown, abandoned farmhouse on the outskirts of Rogers where they had taken Price. Dean and Amie were in the back of the house, in a small living room. A torn-up couch was pushed against the wall. Amie had picked up a set of cheap sheets when she'd gone to town with Sam for food. They were thrown over the couch.

Amie had stopped cleaning his hands. Dean opened his eyes and saw her toss the bloody rag she was using in a bowl of warm water on the table. She stood up next to him on the couch and next thing Dean knew, she was sitting behind him, her butt on the back of the couch, her back resting against the wall. She began kneading the muscles of his neck and shoulders, trying to work out the knots. Dean leaned forward, his elbows resting on his knees, savoring the feel of her long fingers working their way across his back. Amie grabbed the back of his t-shirt and pulled it over his head, throwing it on the end of the couch. They sat like that for nearly twenty minutes; Amie massaging his back and shoulders, Dean relishing every minute of it, a comfortable silence between them.

Amie grabbed his shoulders and pulled him back against her, his head resting between her legs. When Dean opened his eyes to look at her, she kissed him, holding his head with both hands, her long hair tickling the sides of his face and neck. She stood up and turned around, straddling Dean. She continued kissing him, her hands running up and down his arms and across his chest and stomach. Dean put his hands around her waist and pulled her closer, his breath catching when she settled her weight on the erection straining against his jeans. He slid his hands under her shirt and pulled it over her head, throwing it next to his on the couch. He cupped her breasts, his fingers brushing the nipples through her thin, lacy bra. Amie let out a low, quiet moan. She reached down and unbuttoned Dean's jeans, her hand sliding under his underwear, gripping him tightly. She pulled his erection free, continuing to caress him as she did, her tongue in his mouth matching the movement of her hand. Dean felt his breath coming faster and faster. Amie stood up and quickly stripped off her jeans and underwear, then moved back over him. Slowly, she lowered herself onto his erection, her tongue back in Dean's mouth, her hands holding the sides of his face. Dean gripped her waist tightly, the two of them setting a slow, easy rhythm. When Amie threw her head back, her movements speeding up, Dean moved his mouth to her breasts, suckling and savoring each nipple through the lace of her bra. When his climax became inevitable, Dean buried his face in her chest as Amie gripped the back of his head, low moans leaving her throat as they came in unison.

Dean stretched out on the lumpy couch, laying Amie next to him. He grabbed the sleeping bag from the end of the couch and threw it over them. Amie snuggled up close to him, her right arm around his waist, her left under her head. Dean couldn't stop touching her and kissing her. He ran his hands over every inch of her body, kissing her lips, face, and neck. He knew he was losing it. He hadn't fallen this hard for anyone since Lisa and it was starting to scare him. There was a constant war going on between the part of him that wanted to keep Amie close and never let her go and the part of him that wanted her out of his life in order to protect her. But he didn't want to think about that right now. She was here, sleeping in his arms. He would take what he could get for as long as he could get it, until it became too dangerous for her. Dean buried his nose in Amie's hair, inhaling the familiar scent of her shampoo. He drifted off to sleep, his head and his heart still arguing.


	17. Chapter 17

**Chapter Seventeen**

Amie had just finished getting dressed when Sam wandered into the room. His shaggy hair was sticking up in several places and he had a crease mark on his cheek.

"Hmm," Sam grunted. "Where's Dean?"

"He went down to the basement, about 20 minutes ago. Said he knew how he was going to get Price talking, wouldn't let me go with him." Amie explained. "Do you think he's…?"

Sam cut Amie off, his face filled with worry. "Yeah, and it probably is a good idea if you stay up here. I'll go check on him." Sam hurried off before Amie could say anything else.

Amie needed to keep busy, to keep her mind off of what she guessed was happening in the basement. She folded the sheets and the sleeping bag and stacked them on the couch. She was bending over to pick up her and Dean's clothes from the floor when she heard a bloodcurdling scream come from the basement, followed by Dean's demanding voice. She flinched, knowing what Dean was forcing himself to do in order to get answers. She was actually glad that she wasn't helping the boys, because she didn't think she could handle seeing that duplicity in Dean, the duplicity that she knew had to exist in order for him to do the things he was doing. The things he hated doing.

Amie wandered around, finding mindless tasks to keep her hands busy. She picked up and folded Sam's blankets, she took the bloody rags she'd used on Dean's hands outside and rinsed them off with a hose she had found in the backyard. Once she ran out of things to fold or clean, she sat on the steps of the decrepit back porch, watching the sun rise as she waited.

She didn't know how much time had passed before Dean came and sat behind her. He put his legs on either side of hers and rested his arms on her legs, his chin on her shoulder.

"Hey," he said quietly.

"Hi," Amie replied. "You okay?" She took his hands in hers, running her fingers over the bruised knuckles.

Dean shook his head, not speaking. He turned his face into her hair and Amie heard him inhale deeply, his entire body shuddering. They sat quietly like that for several minutes. Amie knew if she was patient, Dean would talk.

"I feel like a monster," he finally said, his voice trembling slightly. "I hate it, all of it. The torture, causing pain, I don't enjoy it. No matter what anyone says." Dean's voice caught.

Amie wanted to turn to him, comfort him, but she knew if she moved, the moment would be over. So she waited.

"That's not the person I want to be. But I'm starting to think it's the person I am, the real me. I hate that Dean. He's uncaring and cruel. He's a bad person." Dean kissed her shoulder. "But when I'm with you, I can believe that I'm good. That I'm not completely worthless. That Dean, the bad one, doesn't exist with you. And if someone like you is willing to be with me, I must not be all of those awful things, right?"

Amie nodded, tears in her eyes.

Dean had turned his face into her hair again. His nose brushed against her neck and she could feel the scratch of the stubble on his chin as he spoke. "I need you, Amie. I can't lose you. Stay with me," Dean whispered, his voice thick with emotion.

Amie couldn't speak, because she was struggling not to cry. So she nodded, her grip tightening on his hands. She brought his hands to her lips, covering the cuts and bruises with gentle kisses.

"Thank you," Dean whispered, resting his forehead on her shoulder.

* * *

Amie didn't know how long Sam had been standing behind them when he cleared his throat.

"Dean? We need to take care of the body before we go," Sam said quietly.

Dean sighed, kissed Amie's neck and stood up. "Okay," he said, helping Amie to her feet. "Will you load everything in Baby so we can go when we're done?" He dug the car keys from his pocket and handed them to her.

"Sure," she replied, taking the keys. "Where are we going?"

"Carthage, Missouri," Sam replied. "There's a chance Abbadon is there. That was the last place Price met with her, a couple of weeks ago. If she's not there, she was at some point, so maybe we can figure out where she went. And there may be other demons there as well."

Amie followed the boys through the house to the basement door. Sam pulled the door open and he and Dean went down the stairs. Amie moved through the house, picking things up as she went and putting them by the door. At one point the boys passed her, carrying the demon's body to a side yard where they were going to burn it. Once everything was by the door, she started moving it to the Impala, which was backed up right to the front door. At the same time she finished, she saw smoke drifting over the top of the house and the boys coming around the side. Amie threw the keys to Dean. They left in a cloud of dust and smoke.

* * *

Carthage appeared to be a bust. Despite getting an actual address from Price, Amie and the boys hadn't found anything. The warehouse at the address looked like no one had been near it in a decade and there was no sign of Abbadon anywhere. Dean and Sam had decided to do a thorough check on the building at the police station. Then, once it was dark, they planned on going to the warehouse and checking it inside and out. They had left Amie at the motel, doing research.

Amie slammed her laptop closed, frustration making her shut it a bit harder than necessary. She felt useless, sitting in the motel perusing websites that offered her no information. She hadn't found a damn thing. She checked the time on her phone. The boys had been gone for hours and Dean wasn't responding to her texts. She got up and wandered the room, picking up random things and setting them back down. She turned the television on, hoping to distract herself.

Amie was pulling a beer from the motel refrigerator when she heard a strange sound, like wings fluttering, behind her. She swung around, pulling her gun from the waistband of her jeans as she did.

A petite, middle-aged woman with brown hair, wearing a black business suit was standing in the middle of the room. She stood with her arms crossed, staring at Amie.

"What the hell?" Amie sputtered. An angel, it had to be an angel. While she had never met an angel, not even Castiel, she had heard plenty about them from Dean and Sam. Basically, they were dicks.

"You must be Amie," the woman said.

Amie tried to keep her composure. "I am. But I'm afraid you have me at a disadvantage. Who are you?"

"I am Katarina," the woman replied. "And before you ask, yes, I am an angel. I am looking for Castiel."

Amie lowered her weapon. "Well, I don't know where he is. Shit, I've never even met him. Sorry."

Katarina looked as if she had eaten something sour. "No, I know _you_ do not know where he is. But Dean Winchester does. I want him to tell me," she stated.

While Katarina was talking, Amie tried to gauge the distance from herself to her open backpack. Dean had put an angel blade in it when they left the bunker, wanting her fully prepared. She didn't think she could get to the bag before being stopped by the angel.

"I'm about 100% positive Dean won't tell you where he is. But I'll give him the message," Amie quipped.

"Oh, he will tell me. Once he has incentive," the angel replied. Suddenly, she was standing in front of Amie. Amie tried to run, but Katarina grabbed her by the arm and touched her forehead. Amie felt as if her limbs were made of jelly and she couldn't keep her eyes open. Then everything went black.


	18. Chapter 18

**Chapter Eighteen**

"Maybe she's asleep, Dean," Sam suggested, holding the Impala's door handle as Dean careened around a corner. "It is one a.m. after all. Or she's in the shower, or her phone is on vibrate, or the battery is dead. It could be any one of a thousand things. Just because she isn't answering her phone doesn't mean anything is wrong."

Dean knew that Sam was trying to make him feel better, but he needed to shut the hell up before he ended up with a broken nose. Dean had accidentally left his phone in the car when they went into the warehouse and when they returned, there had been several texts and a couple of missed calls from Amie. He'd called her back right away, but she hadn't answered. He had been trying every two or three minutes since, but still nothing. He needed to get back to the motel and see if she was okay.

Dean saw the motel sign just ahead. Just a couple more minutes. He barely slowed down as he took the corner into the parking lot and parked across two spots in front of their room. He was out of the car within seconds, racing for the door. It was locked and his banging brought no response. Sam pushed him aside and unlocked the door. Dean couldn't get through the door fast enough.

Every light was on in the room—bedside lamps, overhead light and even the bathroom light. An empty beer bottle was on the table. Amie's boots were on the floor next to the bed, her laptop on the bedside table. Her suitcase, duffle bag and backpack were at the end of the bed, open, clothes spilling out. The TV was on, a rerun of Gilligan's Island playing. Nothing seemed wrong or out of place. Except for the fact that the room was empty.

"I'll go see if the motel manager saw her leave," Sam offered. "I'll be right back."

Dean stood in the middle of the room after Sam left, his eyes trying to take in everything at once. He was looking for something—blood, signs of a struggle—anything to give him a clue as to where Amie might be. There didn't seem to be a thing out of place.

Sam returned and told him what he'd found out. "Manager didn't see or even hear anything. Said the only thing he noticed was all of the lights in the room seemed to come on at once about an hour ago. Otherwise, nothing. Did you find anything in here?"

"Not a thing. It's like she vanished into thin air." Dean suddenly realized what he had just said. He looked at Sam. "Shit, you don't think…angels?"

Sam was quiet for a moment, obviously thinking. "I can't think of anything else," he answered. "If it was anything other than an angel, there would be signs of a struggle, blood, something. You know she wouldn't go down without a fight. But for her to simply be gone, it must be. But what the hell would they want with Amie? She's never even met an angel, not even Cas."

Dean grabbed the beer bottle from the table and threw it across the room. "God dammit!" he bellowed, his fists clenched, anger making him see red. He dropped to the bed, dejected. If the angels really had Amie, there was no way of finding her. They couldn't track them, not anymore. All they could do was wait. Dean put his head in his hands, a feeling of helplessness overwhelming him.

Sam sat down next to him. "We'll find her, Dean. Whatever it takes." Sam put his arm on Dean's shoulder. Dean was grateful for the attempt to comfort him, though it didn't make him feel any better. All he could do was nod. He hoped Sam was right.

* * *

Dean had been staring at the ceiling for hours. He couldn't sleep. Amie was the only thing on his mind. Sam had fallen asleep around three a.m. as they watched some mindless cable reality show about the best diners in America. Dean had shut the TV off right after noticing Sam was asleep. Now, he was waiting for exhaustion to overcome him because he knew that was the only way he would sleep.

Earlier, he and Sam had thoroughly searched the room, looking for anything to indicate that it was angels that had taken Amie. Sam had found her gun on the floor, slightly under the fridge, safety off. Dean figured she had dropped it before she was taken. It hadn't been fired, but she'd obviously pulled it for a reason. That was the only thing out of the ordinary. That and all of the lights being on.

The one thing Dean couldn't find despite practically tearing the room apart was Amie's cell phone. At first it had been a cursory search, just to see if it was there. When he didn't see it, his search became intensive. She always had her phone with her, usually sitting on a table next to her or tucked against her leg when she sat on the bed or couch. She kept it in her pocket when she was hunting. Dean looked everywhere, even dumping out her luggage on the bed to search for it. It wasn't in the luggage, or her backpack or even the small purse she sometimes carried. And it wasn't like it would be easy to miss. It was in an obnoxious, bright purple case for God's sake. Dean prayed that meant that she had it with her.

Once he realized that her phone wasn't in the room, he called Kevin to get him looking into turning on the GPS. Kev had to hack into her account first, but he promised he'd call as soon as it was on. Waiting for Kevin to call was contributing to Dean's inability to sleep. Dean had his phone sitting on his chest as he laid in the bed so he wouldn't miss the call. So when it went off, he didn't even open his eyes to answer it.

"Kev, tell me it's on," Dean said gruffly.

"Dean?" Amie's voice sounded tiny and far away.

Dean sat up so fast he felt lightheaded. "Amie? Where are you?" Dean threw a shoe at Sam, hitting him in the shoulder. Dean gestured to the phone, mouthing 'It's Amie' when Sam looked at him.

"I'm not sure. I tried pulling up the GPS on my phone before I called and it wouldn't work. I wasn't even sure I could call you." Dean heard her exhale. "It was an angel, Dean. Her name is Katarina. She's looking for Castiel. She thinks you'll give him to her in exchange for me."

Dean tried to concentrate, forcing himself to focus on finding Amie. He would deal with the angel once Amie was safe. "Describe where you are," Dean instructed her, putting her on speaker so Sam could hear.

"I'm in a room, nothing in it—no chairs, no bed, nothing, except a lot of trash, papers and stuff. I looked through some of them, but I couldn't find anything that would tell me where I am. There isn't a window. I can't hear anything going on outside of the room, no traffic sounds, no voices, it's quiet. Amie paused before continuing. "Door is heavy, probably metal reinforced. Definitely locked. I could probably pick the lock, but my kit is gone. So is my gun. I don't know how my phone got here, I didn't have it when the angel showed up, but it was sitting here next to me when I came to, so she must have grabbed it. I also don't have any shoes on, which just pisses me off.

Dean heard Amie exhale loudly. He couldn't help but smile. If Amie was pissed off, that was good. She was a bad ass when she was pissed. "Are you hurt?" he asked.

"No," she answered. "I'm fine. Not even a bump. I must have slept for a few hours, or at least that's how I feel."

"Alright. What's the password for your cell account?" Dean wrote it down as Amie gave it to him. "Kevin is going to turn on your GPS so we can find you. Don't turn off your phone."

"Okay. Look, I better go. I have no idea if someone is listening or not. Just hurry up and find me, okay? Oh, and bring my boots." Amie disconnected the call.

Sam had picked up his phone to call Kevin once Dean had Amie's password. "It's on," he said as he hung up. "He's sending me the link." He crossed the room to sit at the table with his laptop. Dean followed close behind.

"Amie said it was angels," Dean said as they waited. "Well, an angel. Her name is Katarina. She wants to know where Cas is and she thinks she can use Amie as leverage to get me to tell her."

Sam let out a low whistle. "Bad idea. But why would she leave Amie her phone? And let her call us? That doesn't make any sense."

Dean shrugged. "Who knows? Probably so we know they have her. If they want Cas, they need us to go to them and tell them where he is. They are using Amie to draw us to them. But I'm not giving them Cas, they can kiss my ass." Dean sighed in frustration. "You know, it's not like we don't have enough to worry about. Now I have to find and kill the angel that took the woman I lo…that took Amie." Dean glanced at Sam to see if his brother had noticed what he'd almost said out loud. Sam was quiet, so either he hadn't noticed or he was pretending he hadn't. Knowing Sam, it was probably the latter. Dean hoped so; he wasn't in the mood for questions about how he felt right now.

He was getting impatient. He could feel his anger and frustration growing every second he had to wait to get to Amie. Once Dean knew where she was, he could focus on getting there and getting her out. That would help him keep the need to kill at bay until he found the angel that had taken her. Then he could let his anger take over.

Just then, the link to locate Amie's phone popped up in Sam's email. He quickly opened it. "She's in Carthage," he said as he examined the map, a confused look crossing his face.

"What? She's here?" Dean looked over his brother's shoulder at the map Kevin had sent them. "You're joking, right?"

"No, I'm not," Sam turned to face him. "And Dean, she's at that warehouse. The one Price told us about."


	19. Chapter 19

**Chapter Nineteen**

Amie couldn't sit still any longer. She got up and began pacing the perimeter of the room. She was fighting to keep calm, when what she really wanted to do was scream and pound on the walls and doors. But since that wouldn't do any good, she figured she would try to walk off the nervous energy she was feeling. She had to find a way out. As she walked, she examined the room. The ceiling was at least fourteen to fifteen feet high, piping crisscrossing it at regular intervals. There was a vent about halfway up the wall, just above the door. It was just high enough that she didn't think she could reach it, even if she jumped. The floor was concrete and papers were strewn everywhere. That was it, there was nothing else.

Her phone vibrated in her hand. She turned it to see a text from Dean: "You're still in Carthage. Warehouse. Sit tight. On our way." She tucked the phone in her back pocket.

Amie rolled her eyes. Sit tight? Where the hell was she going to go? And why hadn't the angel taken her someplace else? Why keep her so close to Dean? Nothing about this was making sense. Katarina let her keep her phone, even let her call Dean. She'd been locked up and left alone, there hadn't even been an attempt to get her to talk. If the angel wanted information, she was really going about getting it in an odd way.

Amie continued pacing, widening the perimeter as she walked. On the fourth trip around, she felt something sharp jab the instep of her left foot.

"Ow, shit!" She immediately dropped to her knees, scrambling to find whatever it was she had stepped on. She sifted through the papers and other debris on the floor around her knees until she felt metal. It was a small paperclip, bent and twisted. It must have been lying on the floor with the bent end pointing up. She was lucky she stepped on it; she just might be able to use the paperclip to get the door open. She tucked it into her front pocket.

Amie quickly examined the bottom of her dirty foot, hoping the paperclip had not done too much damage. Unfortunately, it looked to be more than a scratch; there was also a hole with blood seeping from it and it really stung. Amie grabbed the sleeve of her shirt, ripping it. She wrapped it around her foot and tied it off. She pushed herself to a standing position and tried putting weight on her foot. It seemed to be okay, though she still hobbled slightly as she walked to the door.

Amie pulled the bent and twisted paperclip from her pocket as she crouched in front of the door. It looked to be a simple deadbolt; she hoped she could pick it relatively quick. She wasn't going to sit around and wait for Dean and Sam to show up and rescue her. She could at least try and get out of the room.

Amie spent the next few minutes working the lock on the door. It wasn't as easy as she'd thought it would be; the paperclip was small and difficult to use. She dropped it at least three times and once she thought she'd lost it. It took her several minutes to find it again. Finally, she was able to twist the tumblers and unlock the door.

She waited a few minutes after unlocking the door to make sure no one was coming. After several minutes of quiet, she slowly twisted the knob and peeked out. The hallway outside the door was empty. There wasn't even the clichéd inept guard sleeping in a chair. God, she hoped there wasn't a camera watching the door. Amie opened the door just enough that she could slide out. She tucked the paperclip back in her pocket as she pulled the door closed behind her.

Amie stood in the hallway for a few minutes, unsure of which direction she should go. She was concerned that any direction she chose would just take her deeper into the warehouse. She waited, listening carefully. When she still didn't hear anything, she took a deep breath and turned to her right.

The hallway was dimly lit, stretching out about thirty yards in front of her. As she walked, keeping close to the wall, her eyes roamed the floors, looking for anything she could use as a weapon. She was reminded of every bad horror movie she had ever seen—stupid girl wanders in dangerous place, alone, as the audience yells at her to go back to the locked room where she was safe. She was the stupid girl in this picture.

She had made it almost three-quarters of the way down the hallway when she thought she heard voices. She paused, waiting and listening. She couldn't make out exactly what they were saying, but she could hear the muffled sounds of talking. It sounded like there were at least two, maybe three people. Amie hurried to the end of the hall, hoping to hear something to help her get out.

Amie paused and scanned the large room the hallway had dumped into. There were piles of boxes carelessly stacked around the room. Fluorescent lights were suspended from the ceiling. They were turned on, but so many were broken that the room was poorly lit. A set of stairs went up to what appeared to be small offices around the perimeter of the room. Amie could see a door set between two of the glassed-in offices that looked like it could possibly go outside. She needed to get to that door.

Unfortunately, she would have to get past the three people standing at the base of the stairs. One of them was Katarina and the other two were big, burly guys that looked like they had gone one too many rounds in the ring of a UFC fight. There was no way she was getting past them and there was no other way upstairs. Since she was weaponless, Amie didn't see herself getting out any time soon. But, she needed to get out of the hallway. She quickly made her way behind a stand of boxes about twenty feet from the stairs. She sat down, hoping she wouldn't have to wait long for them to leave.

Katarina was addressing the two men. "I know what he said. I want to find Castiel too, but I want to talk to him. Not kill him. He is important. I cannot explain why, but he is. I think I know how to get the Winchesters to cooperate. He will just have to trust me to do it my way."

Amie shifted in her position on the floor. Well, that was interesting. From what Dean had told her, every angel on earth wanted Castiel dead. Except, apparently, this one. And who the hell was this 'he' she was talking about.

The burly guy on the left looked confused. "So, why did we take the woman? If not to kill her? I thought that was how we were going to convince the Winchesters to tell us where Castiel was?"

"Yes, I want to find Castiel and the Winchesters can help us." Katarina paused, as if she had to think about what she wanted to say. "I think Dean Winchester will tell us where Castiel is if he thinks that the woman will be hurt. She is useless to us if she is dead. But, we will make it so he cannot refuse to answer once he sees the pain she is going through." The angel adjusted her suit jacket. "Go get her. I am sure she has had time to call them. They are most likely on their way."

The two big guys moved off down the hallway. Shit. Amie was out of time. She tried to look everywhere at once, trying to figure out where she could hide. Anyplace she tried to go was going to put her out in the open. It was just a matter of minutes before they realized she wasn't locked in the room anymore. Her only choice was to try to make it up the stairs and out the door.

Just as she was about to make a run for the stairs, Amie felt herself being lifted off of the floor and carried forward. She was dumped unceremoniously at Katarina's feet.

"You are injured," the angel said, as she grabbed Amie's foot and examined it.

"It happens when you walk around without shoes," Amie muttered.

Katarina pulled an angel blade from inside her jacket and gestured to a chair sitting near the stairs. Amie was pulled to a standing position and pushed toward the chair, limping as she went. Once she was seated, one of the big guys tied her up and then pulled it to the center of the room.

"Well, this is original," Amie sputtered, her voice heavy with sarcasm. "Let me guess. Now you smack me around a little bit or cut me with an angel blade so when Dean gets here and sees me, he's good and pissed. Then you'll threaten to kill me unless he tells you where Castiel is. Did I get it right? Isn't that what you just decided to do?"

Katarina moved in close to Amie, until they were practically nose to nose. "Well, yes," she whispered. "That was the plan." She placed the blade against Amie's arm. "Have you ever been cut with an angel blade? I have been told it is a pain like no other, even for a human. Let's find out, shall we?" Katarina pulled the blade down Amie's arm, slicing it open from elbow to wrist.

Amie screamed.


	20. Chapter 20

**Chapter Twenty**

If it hadn't been for Sam, Dean would have rushed from the motel room, no thought, no planning, just straight to the warehouse into what was surely a trap. Fortunately, Sam made him stop and think before flying off the handle. They gathered their weapons, though the only ones that mattered were the angel blades. They discussed the best way to go in, hopefully without attracting attention. Formulating a plan had actually helped Dean to calm down and focus. And now that they were on their way, he felt even better.

Dean was hoping the fact that they suspected they were walking into a trap would work to their advantage. Instead of barging in through the front door, they would try going in through a back door they had found the night before. It was situated on the side of the building and led into a large, two story room with offices on the upper level and a work area below. From there they could see down multiple hallways, where multiple rooms were located. One of which had to be the one where Amie was being kept.

Dean sent Amie a text, telling her to sit tight. He hoped she would listen. She'd never dealt with angels before, therefore Dean didn't think she would realize the kind of danger she was in. Angels were dicks, and if they would stoop to taking her, they wouldn't hold back on anything else.

Rather than park at the warehouse, where the Impala would surely be noticed, Dean pulled down a side street and backed Baby into the parking lot in front of a small real estate office, its windows boarded over. As he left the car, he grabbed Amie's boots from the back seat, where he'd thrown them when they left the motel. When Sam gave him a funny look, he shrugged and gestured for him to get moving.

Dean moved quickly down the street, following Sam. It only took them a couple of minutes to get to the back side of the warehouse and then slip around to the side door. Dean pulled his angel blade, while Sam pulled not only his blade, but Ruby's knife as well. Dean's nerves were raw, anticipation making him hyper-sensitive to every sight, every sound. He dropped Amie's boots by the door as Sam moved to open it.

At that moment, a blood-curdling scream ripped through the early morning air. It was quickly followed by another. Before the second scream had stopped, Sam was through the door with Dean right on his heels, pushing his way to the railing surrounding the upstairs walkway.

Dean tried to take in everything he was seeing at once. Amie was tied to a chair below them, blood dripping to the floor from two cuts to her left arm. Her clothes were torn and dirty and one foot was bandaged with what looked like part of her shirt. She was conscious, but her eyes were glazed and unfocused. A woman was standing next to her, an angel blade covered in blood in her hand. Two extremely large, extremely angry looking men stood to either side of Amie, their business suits stretched uncomfortably across their shoulders.

The woman looked up at the boys as they entered the room. "Ah, the Winchester brothers have finally arrived. Please come downstairs so we can talk," she encouraged as she moved a step closer to Amie.

Dean and Sam exchanged glances, then in unison, they moved down the stairs. Dean was watching Amie closely; the blood pooling under her chair was worrying him.

When they reached the bottom of the stairs, Dean started toward Amie, but the woman stepped in front of her, blocking him.

"Not yet," she cautioned, waving the blade in front of her face.

"Are you Katarina?" Dean demanded. He certainly hoped so, because he was going to kill the bitch.

"I am," she responded. "And you must be Dean, judging by the look of fury on your face. I do not want to hurt Amie anymore. Nor do I wish to kill her. Just tell me what I want to know." Katarina stepped behind Amie and held the blade loosely to her throat. "I just want to know where to find Castiel. I promise not to hurt him."

Dean laughed. "You'll understand if I don't believe you." He took a step closer, fists clenched in anger. "Let her go, now," he ordered. "Then maybe, just maybe, I won't kill you." Dean watched Amie closely as he moved forward. She was still conscious, though he didn't know for how long. He took another step closer.

One of the big guys behind Amie moved forward. Dean put his hand up. "Okay, okay, staying right here, Jumbo. Just let her go. Maybe then we can talk."

"No," Katarina answered. "Tell me where Castiel is. Once I have him, I will let her go." The angel pulled Amie's head back to expose her neck, her fingers resting on her chin. She pushed the blade into Amie's neck, the tip drawing blood. Amie cringed and Dean could tell she was trying not to scream. "Should we show Dean how much it hurts to be cut by the blade of an angel?"

"No, wait!" Dean snarled, hands up in surrender. He turned his attention to Amie. He needed her alert. "Amie? Amie, baby, look at me." Dean breathed a sigh of relief when she opened her eyes. "Hey, you okay?" he asked quietly.

Amie took a deep breath. "Yeah, I think so," she managed to gasp. "Pissed and my damn arm hurts." She sat up straighter in the chair. Dean could see the concentration it took on her face.

"Enough!" Katarina yelled. "My patience is wearing thin." The angel bent forward, her head next to Amie's, the blade at her jugular.

Amie snapped her head back as hard as she could, connecting with Katarina's nose. Dean heard a crunch. The angel stumbled back a couple of steps, dropping the blade from Amie's neck. Dean leapt forward, tackling Amie and the chair she was in to the ground.

"Dean!" Sam yelled, sliding Ruby's knife across the floor.

Dean grabbed the knife and quickly cut Amie's bonds. She rolled off the chair, struggling to her feet. One of the burly guys was heading directly for her, but Dean jumped in front of her, slicing at him with Ruby's knife. He didn't expect it to make a difference, after all the guy was an angel, but it might give Dean enough time to get out his angel blade.

Instead, when the knife cut his arm, the guy hissed and drew back in pain. Dean thought he smelled sulfur. Surprised, Dean grabbed him and stabbed him in the chest, hoping his hunch was right. He seemed to explode in light, collapsing. He was a demon. Dean saw the other guy, the one he'd called Jumbo, take off across the room, his eyes flashing black as he turned.

"Sam! Demon!" Dean hollered as he threw him the knife. Sam took off, close on the heels of the other demon, racing down one of the hallways that extended out of the room.

Dean spun around, looking for Amie. She was on the floor, tying what looked to be the sleeve of her shirt around her upper left arm. She was using the rest of her shirt to staunch the flow of blood. Dean crossed to her in two quick strides.

He took her face in his hands. "Hey, baby," he said, kissing her forehead. She smiled weakly at him. "Did you see where Katarina went?" Amie shook her head.

Dean stood up, looking around. For all he knew, she was long gone. Maybe when her demon bodyguards went down, she had decided it was best to cut and run. Dean figured it was probably a good idea if they did the same thing. When he turned to help Amie up from the floor, Katarina suddenly appeared in front of him. She hit him, sending him flying across the room. He landed against the stairs, slamming his head on one of the concrete steps. The last thing he saw before he passed out was Katarina walking toward him, angel blade swinging in her hand.

* * *

When Dean came to, his head was pounding. His head was in Amie's lap. He tried to sit up, but a wave of nausea washed over him. He groaned and laid his head back down.

"What the hell?" he mumbled.

"Stop moving, Dean," Amie ordered. She was holding something against the side of his head, so he figured it must have been bleeding.

"Where's Katarina?" Dean asked, trying to figure out how he was still alive. He should be dead, since Katarina had been coming at him with a blade in her hand.

"She's right there," Amie answered. "Sam grabbed her from behind when she was headed for you." He put his head up just enough to see Sam standing in front of them. Katarina was standing in a ring of Holy Fire several feet behind him.

Dean struggled to a sitting position, Amie helping him. "Nice work, Sammy," he managed to say. "What do you say we ask her some questions?" He reached for his blade on the floor.

Katarina had the decency to look frightened. "I will answer your questions. There is no need to use your blade."

Dean was so pissed off by what came out of her mouth that he shot to his feet despite the pounding in his head and the nausea. He had to grab the stair railing so he wouldn't fall. Anger blinded him.

"Are you fucking kidding me?" Dean bellowed, advancing on Katarina. He pointed at Amie. "Do you see her? The cuts on her arm, the blood, the torn clothes? You did that. And you want me to NOT use my blade on you? I will fucking kill you!"

Sam put his arm out to stop him. "Dean," he said quietly in Dean's ear. "Stop. Let's see if she'll talk. Let's find out why the hell an angel had two demons working for her. Let's find out why she is holed up in a warehouse that a demon told us about and what she wants with Cas. Then maybe you can kill her."

Dean took a deep breath, trying to see past the anger at what the angel had done to Amie. He knew Sam was right, but that didn't change how he felt.

"Okay, but you talk to her. I can't even look at her without wanting to kill her." Dean walked away, Amie trailing behind him. He went up the stairs toward the offices, hoping to find one with a couch where he could lie down for a while.

Amie grabbed his hand. "Let's find someplace to sit down so I can look at your head. I want to make sure the cut doesn't need stitches," she ordered.

"Already ahead of you. But I think I need to look at your arm, first. It looks like shit. And you're pale as hell. You probably lost too much blood," Dean shot back.

They finally found an office with a couch in the back corner of the room. Before Dean shut the door, he could hear Sam and Katarina talking. Hopefully Sam was getting something useful from her. Dean crossed the room and sat down. Amie knelt beside him on the couch trying to look at his head. He pulled away from her. "I'm fine, it's just a bump. It's not even bleeding anymore. Now give me your arm and let me look at it," he practically barked. Amie punched him on the shoulder, but she sat down and laid her arm in his lap.

Dean carefully unwrapped the makeshift bandage Amie had made from her shirt. She had two vertical slices from the angel blade on the inside of her left arm—one that stretched from her elbow to her wrist and another that was shorter, but much deeper. They would both need to be stitched up. She winced when Dean touched them.

"Sorry," he murmured. He kissed her arm, just inside the crease of her elbow, his lips moving gently down the length of her arm until he reached her hand, then he started back up again. He gently rewrapped the shirt around her arm. He took her face in his hands. "I thought I lost you. Don't do that again," he ordered quietly. Dean kissed her, his thumbs tracing the contours of her cheekbones. Amie nodded, returning his kiss, her right arm wrapped around his neck. When the kiss ended, she rested her head on his chest, her left arm resting across his lap.

Dean laid his head against the back of the couch and closed his eyes. He kept both arms wrapped around Amie. She wasn't leaving his sight again.


	21. Chapter 21

**Chapter Twenty-One**

Amie was lying with her head on Dean's chest, listening to him breathe. They had been sitting like this for about a half an hour and she would be perfectly happy if they stayed like this forever. She was pretty sure Dean was asleep, even though he still had a death grip on her. A few minutes ago she had heard him murmur something that sounded like 'never again' but she couldn't be sure. She traced small circles with her fingers across his stomach muscles, the monotonous movement somehow calming her. She was just thinking she might fall asleep when there was a knock on the office door. She raised her head to see Sam waving at her through the glass.

Dean sat up, wincing. He rubbed the side of his head. Amie gestured for Sam to come in.

"Hey," he said. "How are you two feeling? Because you look like crap."

Dean smiled. "Thanks, Sammy. Love you too. So, what's up? Did Katarina have anything interesting to say?"

"Yeah, she actually did." Sam proceeded to tell them everything that Katarina had told him. "Apparently, Katrina believes that Castiel is the key to reopening Heaven. She's one of a small faction of angels who don't want to kill Castiel, but instead want to protect him. But in order to do that, she has to find him. She enlisted the help of demons, led by Price, to find us. It was her decision to take Amie, not anyone else's. Price told her about this warehouse and that she might be able to use it."

"So, Price led us to Carthage so Katarina could grab Amie. Abbadon was never here," Dean interjected.

Sam nodded. "Yep. It seems he and Katarina had a rather, let's say interesting, relationship for a demon and an angel. She was extremely upset when she found out he was dead. Anyway, Katarina has never met Abbadon, though she has heard of her. She was hoping she could scare you into telling us where Cas is by hurting Amie. She swears that she never had any intention of killing her. She said if you bring Amie downstairs, she'll heal her. Both of you. She also wants to talk to you. Well, all of us. She thinks she can help."

Amie immediately stood up, wincing as she put pressure on her cut foot. "Well, I don't know about you," she said, "but I'm going to let her heal me. My arm hurts like a bitch. And I'm willing to at least listen to what she has to say. It can't hurt." She started limping toward the door.

"Okay, but wait," Dean blurted out. "Sam?" He gestured at Amie.

Before Amie knew what was happening, Sam had scooped her up and was carrying her out of the office and down the stairs. She could see Dean following close behind. She stuck her tongue out at him. He just laughed.

As soon as they reached the bottom of the stairs, Sam set her down. Dean came up beside her and set her boots down on the floor, then took her hand.

"You brought my boots," she beamed.

Dean kissed her forehead. "I did," he smiled. He turned to the angel in the ring of Holy Fire, his facial expression immediately hardening. "Sam said that you could help us. Tell me why should I trust you?"

"You should not trust me," Katarina said, resigned. "But I am asking you to believe me. Castiel _is_ the key to returning the angels to Heaven. I just want to help him. I was misguided in the tactics I used for securing your help with Castiel. For that, I do apologize. Please, I may be able to assist you in finding Abbadon and I most assuredly can protect Castiel. Please, give me a chance. I vow not to harm you. For now though, let me heal your wounds. As a gesture of peace, so to speak."

Amie watched Dean closely, the uncertainty evident on his face. He ran his hands through his hair, wincing when he hit the bump on his head. He looked at Amie, in particular her arm, where the cuts still oozed blood through her ruined shirt. He nodded, slightly.

Amie stepped forward, while Sam broke the ring of fire, allowing Katarina to leave the circle. When she moved to place her hand on Amie's arm, she flinched away.

"I am sorry for causing you pain," Katarina said, her fingers lightly grasping Amie's elbow. She moved to Dean as Amie unwrapped the shirt from her arm. The cuts, both of which had most likely needed stitches, were gone. Her foot no longer hurt either. She sat on the floor and quickly slipped on her boots. When she stood up, Dean was next to her, checking her arm.

He turned to Katarina. "What now?" he inquired of the angel.

"I am going to see if I can find out where Abbadon might be. I must also check in with Bartholomew. He will begin to wonder where I am," Katarina answered.

"Wait, how will you find us?" Amie inquired of the angel.

"Through you," Katarina answered. "I will come if you call. I cannot find them," she gestured to the boys, "because of their sigils. Once I know anything, I will be in touch. I promise." Amie heard that strange fluttering sound and Katarina was gone.

* * *

Three days cooped up in a shitty motel with Dean and Sam was starting to take its toll on Amie. Her head was pounding from the constant bickering between the boys—they reminded her of an old married couple. She'd had enough fast food to last her the rest of her life. And seriously, if she had to watch one more rerun of Dr. Sexy M.D. she just might throw the television through a wall.

But probably the worst part was her and Dean's inability to get any time alone. Oh sure, they'd managed to sneak in a couple of minutes here and there when Sam went for food or coffee, but nothing substantial. For a couple just starting to explore the sexual side of their relationship, this was very frustrating. So frustrating in fact that Amie had moved from the bed she'd been sharing with Dean to the couch in the corner of the room. If she woke up one more time with Dean's body pressed against hers, his hands all over her, his lips kissing her neck and his eagerness to be with her evident against her leg, she was going to scream.

Amie had no idea how long they would be stuck in Carthage. The boys had explained that the bunker was warded, against, well, everything, and if they went back, Katarina wouldn't be able to find them. So they were staying put. They'd discussed separate rooms, but with all that had happened lately, they decided they were safer together. Not to mention, Dean wouldn't let Amie out of his sight. She was lucky if she could go to the bathroom alone.

She was currently curled up on the couch, trying to read, her Samsung tablet balanced on her knees. She wasn't succeeding though because the boys had started an elaborate three-deck game of War with complicated rules that had them shouting and yelling at each other almost constantly. Since she wasn't getting anywhere with her book, Amie pulled up the web page for a local news channel. What she saw there sent her flying across the room to the boys.

"Look at is," she said, her finger pointing to the news story. "Looks like it's a werewolf, doesn't it?"

Dean took the tablet from Amie as Sam moved his chair closer. They quickly read the story.

"Four deaths over the last four months, during a full moon, heart ripped out and gone?" Dean noted. "Yeah, it has to be. What do you say we go check things out?"

Amie breathed a sigh of relief. She was thrilled to have something to focus on, something to hunt. Dean and Sam seemed just as eager as she was to get started; they moved quickly through the room, gathering their FBI clothes, weapons and fake I.D.'s. A sense of purpose permeated the room.

They started at the police station, posing as FBI agents to gain access to the case files. Amie always found it amazing how easily the local cops were willing to turn a complicated, confusing case over to federal agents. She found it even more interesting how quickly they turned it over to a female FBI agent who flirted with them. Which was exactly how Amie managed to get not only the case files, but use of a small office with a copy machine. She gestured for Dean and Sam through the glass behind the counter. They flashed their badges to the officer at the door and followed her into the office.

Dean closed the door. "Nice job, gorgeous," he said, patting her on the butt as he passed her. Amie felt herself blush.

Nearly an hour later, Amie closed the folder she was reading. "None of the victims even knew each other. They had nothing in common. Literally nothing. I have checked and double-checked everything." Amie tapped her pen against the notebook she carried. "I think we need to pick up some maps, try to narrow down its hunting area. What do you think?"

Dean stretched, leaning back in his chair. Amie couldn't help but admire the way his biceps strained against the sleeves of his dress shirt. She watched his lips as he took a drink from his coffee cup. She shook her head, trying to concentrate.

"Probably a good idea," he responded. "We can grab some on the way back to the motel. Let's find Sam and get going." Dean grabbed his jacket from the back of the chair, while Amie gathered her notes and the copies they'd made.

Sam was on his way back when they left the office. He had a stack of folders under his arm and a cup of coffee in his hand. "Hey," he said. "What's up?"

"We're heading back to the motel. We're going to map out the attacks, see if we can figure out its hunting area." Dean looked at the files under Sam's arm. "What's all that?"

"Case files that might relate to this one. The lead detective, Cooper, gave them to me. Said he can't find anything, but he thought we might be able to." Sam gestured to the office. "I'm gonna stay here for a while, go over these. I'll call you if I find anything." He turned and went into the office, shutting the door behind him.

Amie followed Dean out the door to the Impala. He must have noticed she was grinning when she pulled open Baby's door, because he leaned over the roof of the car, smiling at her, a questioning look on his face.

"What?" she asked innocently. "I finally get to sit in the front!" She was ridiculously excited about it. She climbed in the Impala, pulling the heavy door closed behind her.

Dean slid in the car and leaned over, one hand resting on Amie's leg, right above her knee. He kissed her just below her jawline. Amie felt shivers move up her spine. Dean's hand moved farther up her leg, under her skirt, past the top of her thigh-high stockings. Amie felt her breathing speed up, a knot of anticipation forming in her stomach. "Dean…" she panted.

"Shhh," he scolded, his lips moving across her neck, his hand continuing to slide up her leg. His fingers skimmed the lacy underwear she wore, caressing her most sensitive area.

And then all of a sudden, his hand and lips were gone. Amie opened her eyes, disappointment flooding her. She turned to Dean, but he wasn't looking at her. "What the hell, Dean?" she sputtered.

"Unless you want me to take you right here in broad daylight for the whole world to see, we need to get to the motel," he muttered, his voice gruffer than usual.

The drive to the motel seemed to take forever. Amie had the key to their room out and in her hand before Dean had parked the Impala. Dean put his hand on her waist, practically pushing her through the door as she unlocked it. He slammed it closed behind them. Amie turned in his arms, throwing her things to the floor. Dean was kissing her, his tongue impatient in her mouth. She pushed his suit jacket off, letting it fall to the floor, then pulled her own off and threw it next to his. Dean pushed her backwards until her knees hit the bed, unbuttoning her blouse as they walked. Once she was prone on the bed, he kneeled in front of her and pulled her skirt off. His mouth moved to the inside of her thigh as he removed her heels, his tongue caressing the skin just above the top of her stockings. Amie pushed against the bed, her heart racing, need flooding her. Dean took off first one stocking, then the other, his hands and mouth moving up and down her thighs. After he finished taking off her stockings, he moved his hands up to pull off her lacy, black underwear. He leaned over her, trailing kisses across her stomach and down her thighs. Despite the desperate movement of her hips, he didn't touch her where she most wanted him to touch her.

"Dean, please," she moaned.

"I know, baby, I know," he whispered, his tongue flicking, teasing, until his hand finally, maddeningly began caressing her. Dean slid one finger into her, slowly, continuing to torment her.

Amie arched her back, her entire body on fire from Dean's touch. She needed him; needed him to take her, to fill her. She moaned again, breathlessly, no sound coming from her mouth. His finger continued its slow circle inside her, flicking and rubbing.

"Oh, god, Dean, please," she begged.

Finally, Dean put her legs over his shoulders, placed his hands around her waist and pulled her forward until her sex met his mouth. His tongue slid into her, slowly at first, teasing and tantalizing. Amie wiggled and squirmed, her hands clutching the blankets on the bed, waves of pleasure washing over her, low moans falling from her lips. Dean held her in place, making love to her with his mouth. He was consuming her, using his mouth to take her in ways she'd only dreamed about. When the first orgasm shot through her body, she grabbed the back of Dean's head, pulling him closer. He responded, greedily licking and sucking until Amie was screaming in ecstasy, a second orgasm slamming through her.

After Amie was spent, Dean moved his way up her body, kissing her as he went. When he stopped, his face hovering above hers, Amie grabbed his tie and used it to pull him to her lips, kissing him deeply. She loosened the tie and took it off, followed by his shirt. Her hands moved quickly to unbutton his dress pants; Dean helped her push them off, followed by his underwear. Amie took him in her hands, caressing him, taking her time, enjoying the feel of him hardening as she gripped him tight. She heard Dean's breath coming faster as she gently stroked him. She didn't know how it was possible, but she was ready for more.

"I want you inside me, Dean," she whispered in his ear. "Now."

Dean groaned deep in his throat as he positioned himself over Amie, entering her slowly, inch by inch. She moved her hips to meet his, grabbing him to pull him tight against her. Dean caught her lower lip between his teeth, lightly biting her. Then he was kissing her, long and deep, one hand kneading her breast, occasionally twisting the nipple until Amie moaned and writhed beneath him. They moved together, falling into a steady, glorious rhythm. Dean dropped his mouth to her breast, suckling first one then the other. Amie gasped, another orgasm building in her. She pulled Dean closer, their bodies moving faster and faster until she climaxed yet again, Dean not far behind. They collapsed in each other's arms, exhausted and satiated.


	22. Chapter 22

**Chapter Twenty-Two**

"Holy fuck," Dean exhaled a long slow breath. He pushed himself off of Amie and rolled onto his back. His heart was racing. "Holy fuck," he said again.

"I certainly hope that's a good 'holy fuck' Dean Winchester, or you and I are going to have issues," Amie warned. She sat up, her breasts swaying enticingly, right in his face.

"Mm, it's definitely good," Dean murmured as he pulled Amie on top of him, one hand cupping her breast, the other tangling in her hair, pulling her in so he could kiss her.

Dean wished he could just make the rest of the world disappear, so it was just he and Amie. He wanted to keep her with him forever. But Dean was afraid that wasn't possible. The one time he'd tried to lead a normal life, he'd almost gotten Lisa and Ben killed. And his heart broken. Shit, not just broken, it had been ripped out of his chest, stomped on, spit on and then put back. It had taken him longer than anyone knew to move on from that loss. He was terrified of it happening again.

The problem was, every second he spent with Amie just made him fall harder for her. He was starting to think that he might actually be falling in love. God, he could barely think the word without cringing. The thought that he might actually be _in love_ terrified him. He didn't know what he was going to do.

Amie pulled herself out of Dean's arms. He put his arms behind his head and watched her cross the room to the bathroom, grabbing clothes on the way. She stopped at the door and threw Dean a wink, kicking one leg up. Dean laughed. She blew him a kiss and closed the door.

Dean was just pulling on his jeans when Sam came in the door. "Hey Sammy, how'd it go? Did you find anything else?"

Sam glanced around the room, a slight smile on his face. "Yeah, I did," he answered. He picked Dean's dress pants and tie up off of the floor. "Looks like you had fun," he chuckled, dropping them on the bed.

"Hell, yeah. Like you wouldn't believe." Dean snorted, pulling on a black t-shirt and buttoning his jeans. "Thanks for that by the way."

"Oh, you're welcome. But I didn't do it just for you. Hanging out with you two and all that pent-up sexual frustration was driving me nuts. Hopefully that'll hold you for a couple days." Sam took his jacket off and hung it over the back of one of the chairs.

"Don't count on it," Dean muttered, more to himself than to Sam. He scooped the rest of his and Amie's clothes off of the floor and put them on the bed. "So, what did you find?" he asked.

Sam took two maps from his backpack and tossed them on the table. "Hang those up, will ya?" he asked.

Dean grabbed the maps and moved to the only open wall space in the room. He passed Amie as she came out of the bathroom. He gave her a quick kiss on the cheek. She smiled at him. Her smile was one of his favorite things about her.

Amie greeted Sam as well. "Hi, Sam. When did you get back?"

Sam smiled. Dean could tell by the seemingly innocent look on his face that the teasing was about to begin. He just hoped Sam knew what he was getting himself into. And he really hoped there wouldn't be any blood.

"Oh, a few minutes ago," Sam responded. "Nice sex hair, by the way," Sam said nonchalantly.

Amie flipped her hair, giggling. "Mm, and oh so worth it, too," she snickered. "Your brother is amazing. He does this thing with his tongue…."

"Stop!" Sam interrupted, covering his ears. "Ahhhhhhhhh! You win, okay?" Sam was laughing though, obviously pleased that Amie would tease him right back.

Dean laughed also. He was relieved that Sam and Amie got along as well as they did. That had been one thing he had been concerned about, the chance that things would be awkward between them after he and Amie got together. Dean knew that Sam had no feelings for Amie other than the "big sister" kind of feelings, but it was important to him that even that wasn't lost.

Dean finished hanging the maps on the wall. Sam immediately started putting X's on them. They appeared to be in an oblong oval shape, with a small park surrounding by a jogging path in the center.

"Okay, so I found quite a few murders, similar to the four in the news, along with several disappearances, dating back years and years," Sam explained. "We couldn't see a pattern because we were only looking at those four, but when you look at all of them," he tapped the map, "you see this park is in the middle. We definitely need to start here."

Amie looked up from her tablet. "We have to do it tonight, or we won't have another chance until next month," she told them. "It's the last night of the full moon."

"Shit," Dean swore. "I guess we better get busy."

* * *

Dean stretched his legs, trying to get comfortable on the hard play equipment he'd stopped to sit on. He and Amie had just finished their last circuit of the northwest section of the park. He could see Sam on the other side of the park behind the swing set, making his way behind a group of trees.

Amie cleared her throat. "You know we could cover a lot more ground if you and I separated. I could take the southeast part of the park. It would take a lot less time."

Dean sighed. They had already had this conversation at least three times. He was growing tired of it. "No, I'm not letting you out of my sight." He shrugged, "Sorry."

Amie rolled her eyes. "I'm not going to get hurt. I've done this before. And I was alone. I'm not a complete idiot, Dean."

Dean tried to keep the anger out of his voice. "I know you're not an idiot. I never said you were. But after what happened with Katarina, I don't want you alone. I can't have anything happen to you, not when I'm in…." He trailed off, unwilling to finish the thought. He turned to Amie, his breath catching in his throat, "Please just humor me on this one," he pleaded.

Amie's eyes were huge, her mouth slightly ajar. "Umm, okay." She looked away quickly, seeming confused and uncomfortable.

"Thank you." Dean took her hand and kissed the palm. He went back to watching the park, trying to focus on the job.

His phone vibrated in his pocket. He yanked it out to see a text message from Sam: "Southwest corner near jogging path. Thought I saw something."

Dean nudged Amie and whispered, "Let's go." He pulled his gun from his inside jacket pocket. He was glad to see Amie remove hers from the holster in her boot and thumb off the safety. All three of them had loaded their guns with silver bullets prior to leaving the motel, so they were prepared. Dean took off around the perimeter of the park, heading for the jogging path, Amie following close behind.

Dean heard Sam before he saw him. He was running at top speed from the jogging path across a leaf-covered basketball court, his gun in his hand.

"Dean! Through those trees, heading east!" Sam gestured to a group of trees.

Dean swung around and took off at a dead run. He could see flashes of someone running through the trees. He pushed himself faster, his legs pumping, racing to catch whatever it was Sam had him chasing. When he caught another glimpse of the runner through the trees, he adjusted his angle so he would come out of the trees in front of the person he was chasing. If he could time it just right, he would hit him and take him to the ground.

He almost missed. He came flying out of the trees just a second behind the runner, but instead of hitting him dead on and taking him out, Dean hit the runner's back leg, causing both of them to trip. Dean shot to his feet, his gun pointed directly at the runner's chest. He immediately saw the elongated fangs and claws, yellow eyes staring at him as the werewolf got ready to pounce. Dean fired two shots, hitting the werewolf square in the chest. He dropped to the ground at Dean's feet.

A split second later, Dean abruptly flew through the air, his face connecting with the ground just a second before his body. He felt his face slide through the dirt, rocks embedding themselves in his cheek. His gun flew out of his hand, landing a few feet away. Something heavy landed on his back, shoving his face into the ground again. He felt heat move its way down his back and then something wet on his side. He felt his body leave the ground, but then he was slammed back down. He distinctly heard something crack. He dug his fingers into the ground, desperately trying to drag himself to his gun and away from whatever was kicking his ass. Something that felt like claws dug into his leg, dragging him backward. Dean was pretty sure his leg was now sliced open. He struggled to stay conscious. God dammit, where the fuck were Sam and Amie?

Just then, Dean heard a shout, followed by two quick shots. Something hit the ground next to him and he saw feet, Amie's boots, next to his head, then more gun shots. He closed his eyes, unconsciousness sneaking up on him.

Amie's voice was in his ear, coaxing him awake. "Shit! Dean? Dean, can you hear me?"

Dean tried to nod, but more rocks dug into his face. He opened his eyes, trying to see Amie's face. His back and leg were on fire. He could see Amie stripping off her jacket, then he felt pressure on his back.

"Sam!" Dean heard her yell. "SAM!"

Dean couldn't keep his eyes open any longer. He just needed to close them for a minute. So he heard, rather than saw, Sam next to him.

"Crap, did she bite him?" Sam asked.

"I don't think so," Amie responded. "But there's a lot of blood, so I need to clean it off before I know for sure. Go get the car."

Dean felt Sam roll him slightly to his side, trying to get the keys to the Impala. He hissed in pain. Sam muttered "sorry" before gently laying him back down. Then he was gone.

"Hey," Amie cupped his face in her hand. "Just a couple minutes, okay? Open your eyes and look at me, Dean. Come on, honey, please?"

Dean struggled to open his eyes, but they just wouldn't cooperate. He tried several times but finally muttered, "Can't." He decided to let himself sleep, only to be jerked awake when he was rolled over and picked up. "Son of a bitch," he croaked, cringing as the pain shot through his body.

"Sorry, dude. Just for a minute," Sam mumbled.

Dean tried not to puke as Sam carried him. The pain was causing waves of nausea to wash over him. He heard the door to the Impala open and knew things were about to get very bad. Sam set him on the edge of the backseat and Amie put her arms under his. He tried to breathe through the pain as he was pushed and pulled into the car. He blacked out several times, before his head was finally resting in Amie's lap.

The pain was all Dean could focus on. Not even Amie's hand on his head or the quiet words she was murmuring in his ear could break through the wall. He was tired of fighting to stay awake. He let the blackness take him.


	23. Chapter 23

**Chapter Twenty-Three**

Amie sat in the backseat, Dean's head in her lap. She was trying to keep pressure on his back with one hand, but it wasn't easy. She was taking deep breaths, trying to stay calm. She knew she was close to having a panic attack. Her hands were shaking, her heart was racing and tears were running down her face. She was murmuring "It's going to be okay" over and over, but she didn't know if she was talking to herself or Dean.

She tried to assess Dean's injuries, forcing herself to focus. He had four deep cuts from the top of his back to just above his hips. He also had deep gouges in his leg. He had various minor cuts and bruises over most of his body. Amie suspected that his arm was broken. His face was beat to shit. He would not stop bleeding, despite the pressure she was keeping on the cuts. And he had blacked out right after they put him in the car and no matter what she said or did he wouldn't respond. His breathing was uneven and labored. They needed to hurry.

Sam was driving as fast as he could, but not so fast that it would bring them any unwanted attention. When he made eye contact with Amie in the rearview mirror, she shook her head, her lips pressed together in worry. Sam nodded, trying to go faster.

Amie closed her eyes, but all she could see was the image of her son, bloody and torn apart. Dean's injuries were so reminiscent of her son's and husband's that she was near her breaking point. She tried pushing the memories away, but to no avail. She was having trouble catching her breath, she could feel her air passages closing up. She had to breathe, concentrate and focus on what needed to be done. She could lose it later.

Sam finally pulled into the motel. He got out of the car and opened the back door. Amie slipped out, laying Dean's head gently on the seat as she did. While Sam pulled Dean from the car, she unlocked the motel room door and went directly to the bathroom. She grabbed towels and soaked several washcloths with water. On her way back to Dean, she snagged her med kit off of the floor by her bags. "Focus, focus, focus" she chanted repeatedly to herself. Otherwise she wouldn't make it through this.

Dean was on the bed, facedown. Amie took the scissors from her bag and cut off his shirt and jacket. She nearly passed out when she got a good look at his back. It was shredded, the skin flayed to the point that Amie could see muscle. She literally felt sick to her stomach. There was no way she could sew that up. Shit, she wasn't even sure Dean could live with this kind of injury. She felt her airways constricting as the reality of the situation started to set in.

"Sam?" she managed to choke out.

He came out of the bathroom, wiping his hands on a towel. He was wearing a clean shirt. He came up behind her. "Oh my god," he whispered, worry evident in his voice.

Amie starting pulling gauze rolls from the med bag. She unrolled them, laying them across Dean's back, hoping to at least soak up some of the blood. She didn't even realize that tears were rolling down her face until she licked her lips and they were salty.

"Okay," Sam said, restlessly pacing the room. "We'll need to take him to the hospital. Even if it means Abbadon finds us. Neither one of us can fix this."

Realization slowly dawned on Amie. "No, but I know someone that can," Amie shot to her feet. "I can't believe I didn't think of this sooner. I need a minute." She ran into the bathroom, slamming the door behind her.

She paced around the small bathroom, not sure how to start. She'd given up praying when her husband and son had been killed. But this was the only way she could save Dean. She took a deep breath and closed her eyes. "Umm, hey, Katarina, it's Amie" she blurted out. "Hopefully you can hear me. I need your help. Dean is hurt, really hurt. I, umm, don't think he'll make it without your help. Please come."

Amie expected Katarina to be standing in front of her when she opened her eyes. But she wasn't. She should have known it wouldn't work. It was ridiculous to think it would. She turned and flung open the door, ready to take Dean to the hospital.

Katarina stood in front of her, face passive. "Hello," she said calmly. "You need my help?"

Relief flooded through her. "Yes," Amie said, trying to hold back the tears. "It's Dean."

The angel turned to Dean, lying on the bed. She walked slowly across the room. When she reached Dean, she placed a hand on his shoulder. She stayed there for nearly a minute, before Amie noticed him shift slightly. Katarina stepped back. "He'll be fine. Let him rest. I have to return to Bartholomew. He does not know I am speaking to you and I do not want him to become suspicious. I will try to return soon." Katarina disappeared.

Sam and Amie reached the bed at the same time. Amie ran her fingers lightly over Dean's back, the skin now unmarked. His face was perfect, the cuts and bruises gone. He was breathing evenly and he appeared to be sleeping peacefully. Sam was sitting on his haunches, staring at his brother's face.

"He looks okay," he said, sounding appeased. He hung his head briefly, a small smile on his face. "Thank god." He stood up and looked at Amie. "Are _you_ okay?"

"Yeah, yeah, I'm fine," Amie lied. She took a shaky breath, hoping Sam didn't notice. She glanced down at her hands and clothes, still covered in Dean's blood. "I'm, uh, gonna get cleaned up. Maybe you could go get some food. He'll probably be hungry when he wakes up."

Sam nodded. "Good idea. I'll go to that burger place up the road he likes. I'll only be gone a few minutes. Keep your gun with you the whole time."

All Amie could do was nod. She was afraid if she talked, Sam would hear how close she was to breaking down. She knelt on the floor and started digging through her suitcase, pulling out clean clothes, hoping to occupy herself until Sam was gone. A few seconds later, she heard the motel room door close and lock.

She kept herself together until she heard the Impala start up and pull away. Once she knew Sam was gone, she scrambled to her feet, lurching across the room and through the bathroom door. She slammed it behind her, dropping her things and throwing herself to the floor in front of the toilet. She vomited, vacating her stomach of everything she had eaten that day. When there was nothing left to throw up, she pulled herself up in front of the sink and splashed cold water on her face. She stared at her face in the mirror, but all she saw was a slightly younger version of herself.

_Amie hoped if she stared in the mirror long enough, maybe she'd fall through it into an alternate reality where none of this had ever happened. The water continued running in the sink, but she had forgotten it was even on. _

_There was a knock at the door. "Mrs. Williams? Are you alright in there?" the young female police officer asked. _

_Amie shook her head. She was never going to be right again. She turned off the water, grabbed some more tissues from the box on the counter and opened the door. _

_Amie saw the officer jump when she flung the door open. "Oh, Mrs. Williams, you startled me! Detective Abernathy wanted me to check on you. He has a few more questions for you." The young lady was very pale. But most of the people who had come in her house tonight had looked like that after getting a look at her son and husband. Amie choked back a sob, desperately trying to keep herself together._

_She pushed past the officer and moved down the hall toward her kitchen. She could see people working in her husband's office, taking blood samples, looking for fingerprints or DNA or whatever it was they looked for. They weren't going to find anything. The thing that did this didn't leave fingerprints. _

_The young officer followed closely on Amie's heels. She was saying something, but Amie wasn't listening. Detective Abernathy sat at her kitchen table, a notebook in front of him, tapping his pen on the table top. Amie wanted to smack it out of his hands. She crossed to the refrigerator and grabbed a bottle of water. She really wanted a beer, but Abernathy looked like the stuffy type who might look down on that. _

_"What other questions could you possibly have, Detective?" Amie asked, the exasperation she was feeling coming through in her voice. She had been answering questions for nearly two hours. She'd told her story to at least four different people and she was getting tired. All she wanted to do was crawl into her bed, pull the covers over her head and sleep. Make all this go away, if just for a few hours. _

_"I'm sorry, Mrs. Williams, I know this is frustrating. But we want to find out who did this to your husband and son, don't we? So any answers you can give us will only help us to do that. Why don't you sit down and tell me just one more time exactly what happened. After all, you want to help, don't you?" Abernathy pointed to the chair across from him, the pen tap, tap, tapping as he spoke. _

_But Amie had had enough. She was at the table in two strides, slamming her hands down on its surface. Water flew from the bottle she held in her left hand. "Don't fucking patronize me, Detective Abernathy. I told you what happened. I found my husband and son torn to shreds when I got home from work. Torn to shreds. Not stabbed, not shot, not beat up. Torn apart. My son's heart is missing. Ripped out of his chest. My husband's head apparently burst open like a rotten melon. That's what I know, that's what happened. Now, if you have nothing else of importance to add or any relevant information to give me, then you need to get the hell out of my house. I am done talking to you."_

_The detective stood up quickly, putting his notebook and pen in his pocket. He backed away from the table—and Amie—so fast he knocked over the chair he had been using. "Yes, ma'am," he finally stammered. "I think I have everything I need. We'll finish up and leave. I'm sorry." _

_Detective Abernathy left the room, followed by the other officers. Amie heard him telling the other people in the house to pack it up. She walked around the table and straightened the chair. She sat down, watching as one by one the police and forensics team left. When she was finally alone, she walked down the hallway to lock the front door. She avoided looking towards Frank's office, the door closed and covered with crime scene tape. She practically ran up the stairs to her bedroom, locking the door behind her, even though she knew a locked door wouldn't stop what had killed her family if it decided to come back. _

_Amie took the loaded shotgun from the gun safe in the closet, crawled into the bed she'd shared with Frank, and pulled his pillow over so she could lie on it. She curled herself around it, inhaling the scent of her now-dead husband. She kept one hand curled around the shotgun. Even though she wouldn't have thought she had a tear left in her body to shed, she starting crying. _

_For the first time in almost twenty years, she wanted her father. He would know what to do. He would know how to hunt down what had done this to her family. He always knew what to do. Her daddy had been an amazing hunter, maybe even better than Bobby Singer or John Winchester. And while he'd taught his daughter everything he knew, it had been so long since she had even thought about hunting, she couldn't even imagine where to start. When she walked away from it, and therefore her parents, she had hoped that she was leaving the life behind. But it looked like it had finally caught up with her._

_Unfortunately, she couldn't just call her father for help. He'd been killed on a hunt a few years ago. Amie hadn't even gone to the funeral. Her mother was still so angry with her daughter and her refusal to stay in the family business, that she wouldn't even call her to tell her that her father had died. It was Bobby Singer that had called her to let her know. He'd been very nice and he'd seemed to understand why she wouldn't be at the funeral, though he had sounded slightly disappointed. When her mother died last year, the alcoholism finally taking its toll, Amie had told the funeral home to cremate her and spread the ashes anywhere they wanted. _

_Now, she had no one. As Amie lie in the bed, sleep evading her, she realized what she was going to have to do. It wouldn't be easy and it would take a lot of planning but it was possible. Since she had no one else to turn to, she was going to have to take care of this alone. _

_Her family was gone, and as far as Amie was concerned, so was her previous life. Nothing would ever be the same. She would never be the same. The only way to survive this was to shut her emotions away and keep everyone and everything out. She would go back to hunting, find what had killed her husband and son and destroy it. Then maybe she could find some peace._

Amie was pulled from her memories by the distant slamming of a door. The water still ran in the sink. Her tear-streaked face stared back at her in the mirror.

"Amie? You alright," Sam called from the other room. "I got the food."

"Umm, yeah, just give me couple minutes," she yelled.

She took several deep breaths, trying to calm herself. She quickly stripped out of her bloody clothes and used the bar of soap on the sink to clean the blood off of her arms and hands. She dried herself off with the nearest towel and shut off the water. Amie threw on the shorts and tank top she'd grabbed. She opened the door and stepped out of the bathroom.


	24. Chapter 24

**Chapter Twenty-Four**

Dean could smell French fries. He opened his eyes slowly, anticipating the pain, but it didn't come. Without moving his head, he looked around. He saw Amie's bare foot and leg, propped on the bed next to him. He could see the open bathroom door behind her. They were obviously back at the motel. He put his hand on Amie's leg and pushed himself up until he was sitting on the edge of the bed.

Amie leaned forward in the chair she was sitting in by the bed and put her hand on his knee. "You're awake," she smiled.

Dean nodded while he stretched the muscles in his back. Nothing pulled or hurt. He put a hand to his face, but he couldn't feel any bruises or abrasions. He straightened his leg but there was no pain there either. He looked at Amie. "Who healed me?" he asked.

"It was Katarina. I called her," Amie explained. "She came and healed you. Then she left again."

"She just left? Still no answers? I'm really getting tired of waiting on that damn angel." Dean put a hand to his stomach. "Wait, I smelled French fries. Where are they?" He looked around the room.

Sam threw a bag at him from where he was sitting at the motel's kitchen table. Dean opened the bag, the undeniably wonderful smell of hamburger and fries wafting from it. He greedily unwrapped the burger and took a huge bite.

"Oh my god, that tastes good," Dean muttered around the burger in his mouth. "So, what attacked me?" He grabbed Amie's drink from her hand and took a huge swallow.

"It was another werewolf, a female. We figure she must have been with the one you shot. Amie killed her," Sam answered.

Dean grimaced as he swallowed and looked at Amie. "You shot her?" he asked. She shrugged. He started to take another drink, but instead handed it back to Amie. "What is in that? It's disgusting."

"Green tea," Amie laughed as she stood up and grabbed another large drink from the side table. Dean couldn't help but admire her as she walked back to him; her long, lean legs looked fantastic in the shorts she was wearing. She handed the drink to Dean. He took a tentative sip; when he realized it was Coke, he gulped it down.

"So it was two werewolves, working together?" Dean asked, still eating. He was starving. He almost always felt like this after an angel healed him. It had been so long that he'd nearly forgotten what is was like. "Does that strike anybody else as odd?" He looked at Sam and Amie.

"Well, yeah, but the whole damn world is odd right now," Sam replied. "Since we had to get you back here I didn't really have time to check things out further. I do know the female werewolf was pissed when you shot the other one. She wanted to tear you apart. And she nearly did."

Dean stretched the muscles in his back once more. "I know it was bad, but how bad was it really?" He looked at Amie as he asked.

Amie was pacing back and forth in front of the couch, her muscles taut, her face pinched. She looked at Dean and he could have sworn she had tears in her eyes.

"I thought you were going to die," Amie explained. "Your back, it was torn apart. I…I could…the cuts were so deep. They wouldn't stop bleeding. You were barely breathing." Amie voice hitched and then Dean saw that she actually was crying. He started to get up to go to her, but she put her hands up, gesturing for him to stay where he was. "I couldn't do anything, neither could Sam. So I called Katarina." She shrugged. "Excuse me a minute." She ran into the bathroom and shut the door. Dean heard the lock turn.

He looked over at Sam, who shrugged his shoulders. "I don't know. But she's right, dude. You were a mess. I don't think you would have made it if she hadn't called the angel. She popped in, healed you, and popped right back out again. Barely said anything other than she had to get back before what's-his-name got suspicious."

Dean glanced at the bathroom door, then back at Sam. "Well, I'm getting tired of waiting. You know how good I am at it. We need answers, and we sure the hell aren't going to get them sitting around here."

Just then, Amie came out of the bathroom. She had pulled her hair away from her face and Dean could see that her eyes were red and puffy. She threw herself on the bed next to Dean. "It's after midnight. I'm exhausted, I'm going to try to sleep for a few hours." She pulled the sheet up over herself and curled up on her side, her back pressed against Dean. He put his hand on her hip, absentmindedly massaging it.

Maybe it was time to think about going back to the bunker. They had spent three days locked down in the motel and frankly, Dean was done. Katarina wasn't bringing back any answers about Abbadon. As far as he was concerned, Amie was constantly in danger. Castiel was being hunted by angels and Dean wasn't sure how to help him. If they went home, they could go back to work on Crowley and continue researching how to solve the angel problem. And Amie would be safe. Maybe Dean could relax and concentrate on some of the other problems they had.

"What do you think about heading home, Sammy? Dean asked.

"Home? You mean back to the bunker?" Sam responded. "I think it's probably a good idea. We aren't getting anything accomplished sitting around here. Katarina hasn't brought us any answers. Maybe she won't, who knows? So, yeah, let's go back."

Dean nodded his agreement. "Okay then. Get some sleep, you look tired. We'll leave tomorrow."

Sam smiled. "Yeah, worrying about you practically getting killed takes a lot out of me. I'm dead tired." He crossed the room, pulling off his shirt as he walked. He sat on his bed and pointed at Amie. "Behave yourself, will ya? I'm gonna be right here." Sam tucked a pillow under his head. Dean heard him start snoring just a few minutes later.

Dean laughed quietly. Him, behave himself? That was asking a lot when it came to Amie. As usual, he felt an overwhelming need to touch her. Not because he wanted to make love to her—which he did—but because he needed to reassure himself that she was real, that she was _there_. He reached behind himself, turned off the bedside lamp, and wrapped himself around her. He closed his eyes and drifted off to sleep.

* * *

Dean awoke to gentle kisses against his throat and soft hands running up and down his back. Amie had pressed herself against him, her breasts pushing against his chest. Dean felt himself stiffening in response. He grabbed her and pulled her closer. Amie kissed his chest, her tongue teasing first one nipple, then the other. Her hands slipped down the front of his underwear, grasping him with both hands. She began slowly running her hands up and down his shaft.

"Amie…stop…Sam, he'll wake up…," he said, barely able to say the words. His breath was coming faster and faster. If Sam woke up…. The thought was interrupted by Amie's impatient hands encouraging his ever-growing erection and her voice in his ear.

"I need you, Dean," she whispered.

He grabbed Amie's face, desperate to kiss her, but wanting to stop her at the same time. Dean rubbed his thumbs across her cheekbones. They came away wet.

"Hey, what the hell?" he whispered, concern clouding every other thought.

Amie shook her head, still kissing Dean's chest. "Make love to me, Dean. I need you close to me. Please?"

In the dim light filtering through the thin curtains, Dean saw Sam shift in his sleep. He mumbled something incoherent and rolled over. Dean pulled Amie against him and quickly stood up. He dragged her into the bathroom and shut the door, leaving the lights off.

"Baby, tell me what's wrong? Why are you crying?" Dean held her face gently in his hands, trying to see into her eyes in the dark room.

He felt her shake her head in his heads. She took a deep breath. "I'm…I'm just scared, Dean. I'm absolutely terrified."

Dean had no idea what she was talking about. "What? What are you afraid of?" he asked.

"Losing you. I can't lose you, Dean. And tonight I almost did." Amie blew out a breath as she spoke, her hands gripping his upper arms so tightly her nails bit into his skin.

"I know, but it's okay," Dean said, kissing her forehead. "I'm alright. There's nothing to worry about." Amie didn't respond. He knew she'd been worried, of course, but he was fine. He couldn't understand what she was so upset about.

"No, you don't understand." Amie said. "I love you, Dean," she whispered so quietly he barely heard her.

Dean was so shocked that he took a step back, dropping his hold on Amie. "You what me?" he said.

Amie wouldn't look at him. She fidgeted nervously, twisting her hands in front of her. "I'm in love with you, Dean," she finally admitted, the words spilling from her lips. "For a while now. Probably even before we got together. I totally understand if you don't feel the same way about me, and I'm okay with it. I don't need you to, you know, love me back."

Dean couldn't speak. A million things he wanted to say were running through his head, but not one thing would come out of his mouth. He opened his mouth to say something, anything, but then he closed it again. He ran a hand through his hair. He could see Amie watching him, despite the darkness in the room. He wanted to tell her he loved her too, to reassure her that his feelings for her were just as strong. But the words wouldn't, couldn't come out. There was something holding him back, keeping him from telling her.

Instead he stepped forward, gathered her in his arms, and kissed her, determined to tell her with his body what he couldn't with his words. He pulled Amie so tight against him that he was afraid he was going to crush her. Dean pulled her tank top off, wanting to feel her skin against his. His hands came up, grasping her breasts, his thumbs tracing circles around the nipples.

Amie responded by grabbing his hair, her tongue darting in and out of his mouth. She slid her hands into the waistband of his underwear, pushing them down until they fell around Dean's ankles. She began massaging him again, one hand sliding down to momentarily grasp his sac, before moving up to circle the tip of his erection, her nails lightly grazing him.

Dean moaned in Amie's mouth. God, the things this woman did to him. His head dropped to her breast, his mouth enveloping her, sucking and licking. He shoved her shorts and underwear down, his hand seeking out and finding her core, wet and ready for him. He slowly slid one, then two fingers into her, enjoying Amie's slight intake of breath. With his other hand, he lifted her up and set her on the edge of the bathroom counter, spreading her legs so he could stand between them. His hand and fingers continued working her until she was gasping, the rhythm of her hand on his erection matching his.

"Dean…," she whispered, pulling him closer, guiding him.

Dean quickly entered her. Amie moaned, locking her legs around his upper thighs as she grabbed him and pulled him flush against her. He put one hand against the wall, bracing himself, with the other hand he grabbed her ponytail, pulling her head back until he could kiss her. He moved deliberately at first, taking his time, relishing the feel of Amie's wet core wrapped around him, his hips slowly grinding against the heat at her center. When Amie moaned again, Dean's hips shot forward, his thrusts becoming deeper, harder.

"Yes, Dean, oh god, yes, don't stop" Amie begged, her butt coming off of the counter as she pushed herself harder against him, matching him thrust for thrust.

Dean's control slipped. He put his hand under Amie's ass, moving faster and harder. They moved together quickly, almost desperately, the rhythm of their lovemaking matching Dean's racing heart. Dean pounded into her, holding himself back as long as possible. When Amie grabbed the counter, the tempo of her hips increasing, her back arching, an orgasm tearing through her, Dean finally let go, his own orgasm matching the intensity of hers.

Amie sagged against him, her forehead on his chest, her hair tickling his chin. He planted a kiss on the top of her head. He grabbed her chin, pulling her face up so he could look in her eyes. He kissed her gently. He wiped away a tear from her cheek.

Dean leaned his forehead against hers. "I…" he stopped, the words still not coming.

Amie looked up at him through her lashes. "I know, Dean. It's okay." She kissed him, a slight smile on her face. "Really. Come on, let's go get some sleep."

Dean helped her off the counter, setting her gently on her feet. He watched her as she put her clothes back on. He didn't deserve her, didn't deserve her love. Shit, he couldn't even tell her he loved her. Damn emotions were too complicated and annoying. He hated them. He was going to have to get over that, come to terms with his feelings and figure out how to tell her how he really felt. Otherwise, he was afraid he would lose her, forever.


	25. Chapter 25

**Chapter Twenty-Five**

Amie decided she only slept well when she was sleeping with Dean. After they had left the bathroom and returned to the bed, she had fallen asleep almost instantly, Dean's arms around her. She'd been sure she would lie awake, her mind consumed with what she had told him. But instead she had slept soundly, no dreams, no memories. And she didn't wake up until the sun was streaming through the motel window.

She stretched, trying to quietly slide out of Dean's grasp. Instead he pulled her closer, tightening his arms around her waist.

"Where do you think you're going?" he mumbled, his eyes still closed.

"I was trying to escape from you. You're heavy and you're making me hot," she answered, as she put her hands against his chest and pushed. "So let me go."

Dean laughed, rolling her onto her back and pulling her under him. "I don't think so," he said, his tongue sliding up her neck until he reached her mouth. His hand moved down her side, under the waistband of her shorts.

"Dean!" Amie heard Sam yell. "I thought I told you to behave yourself!" Sam threw a pillow at them from his bed, a look of disgust on his face.

Amie laughed at Dean's look of mock horror. He raised his eyebrows, tilting his head to the side, a smirk on his beautiful face. "I guess I have to be good. Bummer." He rolled off of Amie, releasing her.

"What time is it?" she inquired, grabbing Dean's arm to look at his watch. "I need coffee." She stood up, crossing the room to sit on the couch. She dug through her bag, looking for clean jeans and a t-shirt.

Sam pushed himself off of the bed. "I'll go get it. Give me a minute. Then you two can be alone." He snagged a shirt from the top of his bag on his way to the bathroom.

Dean hooked a finger at Amie, gesturing for her to join him on the bed. She giggled and shook her head. He laid his head down on the bed, smiling at her.

"Just wait," he promised.

Amie smiled to herself. She loved it when Dean was like this, joking and playful. She had seen it so rarely over the couple of years she had known him. But right now, the worry lines were wiped from his face and his green eyes sparkled. She hoped that she was the reason he was like this; that their relationship was finally the something good he needed in his life. The something good they both needed.

Sam came out of the bathroom, trying—but failing—to look irritated. He looked between Amie and Dean, smiling a knowing smile. He grabbed the keys to the Impala, winked at Dean and without saying a word, walked out the door.

"So, what was that wink for?" Amie asked innocently.

"Well, if you would come over here, I could show you," Dean sat up, arms open, waiting for her.

But Amie was enjoying this game too much. "Oh, really? I think you showed me quite a lot last night." She smiled what she hoped was her most innocent smile.

"Well, maybe I'll just go over there." He moved to the edge of the bed, tensed as if to pounce.

Amie's eyes darted around the room, looking for an escape. But because Dean was a hunter, he was scary fast and he would anticipate any move she made. There was no where she could go. She had just decided to make a run for the bathroom when Dean shot off the bed, tackling her to the couch. She squealed and laughed as he pinned her underneath him.

"Hmmmm, just where I want you," he teased as he sucked at her neck. His hand slipped under her shirt, moving toward her breast.

"Oh no you don't," she laughed, grabbing his wrist.

"Aw, come on, don't be like that," Dean pouted. He twisted to his side, keeping a tight hold on Amie, putting her back against the couch. His face turned serious. "Look, about last night…."

Amie put a finger against his lips. "You don't have to say anything Dean, really." She took a deep breath. "I knew what I was getting into when I agreed to this. You and emotions, not a good pair. You know, that's the Winchester way." Despite the words coming from her mouth, Amie wished it was different. She had laid her heart out on the table and finally told Dean she loved him; could anyone blame her for wanting something, anything in return?

Dean played with a strand of her hair, refusing to meet her eyes. "Just know that I'm trying, okay? I want to…well…I just…I just need time. Time to get my shit together. Can you give me that?" he pleaded.

Amie nodded, pulling his face to hers so she could kiss him. "Whatever you need, Dean," she whispered. "I love you." She let him pull her close, his chin resting on the top of her head, his arms around her waist. She would give him all the time he needed, as long as she could stay with him.

* * *

"I really hate sitting in the backseat," Amie whined.

Sam smirked at her over his shoulder. "Tough. If I have to put up with you and Dean being all gross and disgusting, than you have to put up with the backseat."

"Hey," Dean protested. "I am not gross or disgusting. And neither is she."

"When I say gross and disgusting, I am referring to you two constantly wrapped around each other, like I found you when I got back with the coffee," Sam reminded them, a pained look on his face.

Amie didn't know what he was so upset about. It wasn't like they'd been having sex when Sam got back. Yes, they had been on the couch, legs and arms intertwined, and yes, Dean's hand had been under her tank top, and yes, they had been kissing, and okay, Dean had been a little, well, excited, but that was it.

Dean laughed. "Dude that was nothing! You're lucky you didn't walk in the bathroom last…."

"Dean," Sam cut him off. "Seriously? Talking about you two having sex is like, I don't know, talking about Garth having sex."

"That's just gross," Dean looked ill.

"Well, that's how I feel around you two. You're always grabbing her ass…." Sam sputtered.

"Hey," Amie smacked Sam on the shoulder. "Watch it!"

Sam glared at her, but continued speaking, "…or sticking your tongue down her throat, or any one of a million things that I don't want to see you doing. I _deserve_ the front seat if I have to put up with that all the time."

Amie laughed. She knew Sam wasn't really that upset. But he had been cooped up with them for several days and it had been difficult for them to keep their hands to themselves. Maybe he did deserve the front seat. But she was going to make him pay for it. She leaned forward, putting her lips right against Dean's ear.

"Hey, gorgeous" she murmured in Dean's ear. She dropped a kiss right behind his earlobe and wrapped her left arm around the seat, resting it on his chest. Dean grabbed her hand and planted a kiss on the palm.

"Hey, baby," he said, laughing.

Amie heard Sam make a gagging noise, but she saw him smiling out of the corner of her eye. She knew that he was very happy that she and Dean were together. He had told her as much one night over beers while Dean slept.

_"You're good for him. You know that right?" Sam said to Amie, taking a long pull from his beer. "I haven't seen him like this since Lisa."_

_Amie looked at Dean, sleeping on the couch, his mouth hanging open, snores echoing through the room. She couldn't help but smile. "What? You haven't see him overprotective and overbearing in a while? I feel so special."_

_Sam leaned forward, a serious look on his face. "No, I haven't. And he's like that because he is afraid of losing you. That means you mean something to him. So give him a break."_

_"Alright, alright, I'll try," she replied. "So, what do you really think about us? Are you okay with it?"_

_Sam smiled. "I am ecstatic. It's nice to see him happy. To the extent Dean can let himself be happy, anyway. And you know I've always liked you. You're perfect for him. He needs someone who won't take his crap. I'm glad he is letting himself do this. Be with you, I mean."_

_Amie returned Sam's smile. "Me too, Sammy, me too."_

* * *

Amie was just getting out of the shower when she heard Queen's Another One Bites the Dust coming from the other room. It was her phone. She figured she'd let it go to voicemail and check it later. She was actually enjoying a few minutes by herself, away from the boys, and she was in no hurry for the real world to sneak back in. As it was, she'd practically had to hold her gun on Dean to get him to give her some time alone. He still felt the need to hover protectively, despite being back at the bunker.

He'd stayed in her room, his eyes following her as she unpacked her clothes and put her weapons away. After she'd finished unpacking, he had tried to coax her into the bed by kissing her, his hands roaming everywhere on her body. She'd had a hard time resisting him, but she was desperate for a few minutes to herself. The only way she could get him to leave was by promising to find him after she had showered and changed.

After she finished getting dressed, she grabbed her phone. The blue light in the corner was flashing, indicating she had a message. She didn't recognize the number, but that wasn't really a surprise, considering the lifestyle she led. Hunters changed phone numbers like some people changed their underwear.

Amie quickly dialed into the voicemail system, curious as to who could have called her. It was most likely Garth or another hunter needing help.

"Amie, hi, it's Bill Washington. Umm, not sure if it matters to you or not, but I think I've got a lead on the werewolf that killed Frank and Joseph. It's, well, it's a pureblood and there's a chance it might be _the_ alpha. I'm going after it and I figured you'd want in on it. I'm in Burlington, Colorado and I think it's in North Platte, Nebraska. Call me back, soon. I'm heading out in a few hours."

Amie's hand started to shake before the message was over. She had spent more than three years trying to find the monster that had killed her husband and son. There had occasionally been leads, but nothing had ever panned out. She had told every hunter she knew that she was after a werewolf, but not just any werewolf, she was after a pureblood werewolf. It had never occurred to her that it might be an alpha, but it was certainly a possibility. If there was even a small chance that this was the werewolf that killed her family, she had to be there. But first she had to tell Dean that she needed to leave.

She found him in his room, reclining on his bed, watching TV. She stopped in the doorway, admiring the view. He must have taken a shower, because his hair was damp. He was wearing a pair of gym shorts, his chest bare. He looked gorgeous, as usual. Amie waited for him to see her before she went in.

"Hey," he smiled as soon as he saw her. He grabbed the remote and turned off the television. "What are you waiting for? Come here."

"I need to talk to you," she said. "It's important."

"Okay, what's up?" he asked, a hesitant smile on his face.

Amie stepped into the room, leaving the door open. She didn't go sit by Dean like he'd asked, because she didn't want to get too close, otherwise Dean would distract her and this conversation would go nowhere.

"I have to leave, Dean. Just for a few days. I need to go tomorrow, or the next day at the latest." She stared at the floor, not sure she could look Dean in the eye.

"What do you mean, you have to leave?" Dean asked quietly, confusion and anger clear in his deep voice. "Where the hell do you think you're going to go?"

Amie quickly explained the message Bill Washington had left her. "I have to go, Dean, please try to understand. This might be my only chance."

Dean crossed the room to stand in front of her. He spoke quietly, with an almost scary calm to his voice. "Bill Washington is an idiot, Amie, an utter and complete idiot. The man has never had a successful hunt in his life, let alone a successful lead. It's probably nothing. I will not allow you to…."

Amie interrupted him. "You won't _allow_ me to what, Dean? Leave? Like you have any say over what I do! You don't own me!" Amie punctuated each with word with a finger to Dean's bare chest. "You can't keep me here!"

"Yes, I can. You aren't going anywhere. So, just forget about it." Dean grabbed her upper arms. "You are staying in the bunker. I'll call Garth, maybe he can go help…."

"That is not the point! You can't possibly be that thick!" Amie yelled, pulling her arms from Dean's grasp. "_I_ have to be there. _I_ have to do this. I have to be the one to kill it!"

The volume of Dean's voice rose with each word he spoke. "No, you don't! You could be the one to get killed. This is a pureblood werewolf we're talking about. They are more powerful than any you've ever gone against. And if it really is the alpha, it will be nearly impossible to get out alive. I am not letting you go. It is far too dangerous. You are staying here. If I have to lock you in your goddamn room to keep you here, I will."

"I am not staying here! I am not your prisoner!" Amie was screaming, the words pouring from her mouth. "If there is the smallest chance that this is _the_ werewolf, the one that killed Frank and Joseph, than I have to go. There is nothing in this world more important to me than finding and killing the monster that killed my family. You will not stand in my way, Dean Winchester! I swear to God you won't!"

"Yes, I will!" Dean bellowed. His face was red with anger, his fists clenched at his sides. "You will stay here! I will not allow you to leave! Don't ask again!"

Amie took two steps back from Dean, her voice suddenly dead calm. "I am not asking your permission to do this, Dean. I don't need it." She quickly wiped the tears from under her eyes.

Dean grabbed her hand, trying to pull her to him. "I won't let you do this. I can't let you do this," he said, his voice thick with emotion.

"Why Dean?" Amie implored. "Because you love me so much?" She stared into Dean's face, waiting. When he didn't say anything, she pulled her hand from his grasp. "That's what I thought."

She turned on her heel and calmly walked out. She passed Sam at the door, a concerned look on his face. She just shook her head and turned toward her room. Once inside, she shut and locked the door.


	26. Chapter 26

**Chapter Twenty-Six**

Dean picked up the remote from the bed and threw it against the wall, a roar of frustration coming from him.

Sam stood in the doorway, watching him. Dean turned to him. "God dammit, Sam, what?"

"You know what, Dean. Go talk to her," he said, exasperation in his voice.

Dean nearly laughed. "Are you fucking kidding me? Jesus Christ, I was just talking to her! You saw how well that went!"

"No Dean, you weren't talking to her, you were yelling at her. And you weren't listening to her." Sam stepped further into the room. Dean could tell he was angry. "Of all the people in the world, you should understand how she feels. That overwhelming need for revenge, to kill the thing that killed what you love, what you care about. That was the Yellow-Eyed Demon for us. Or Dick Roman after he killed Bobby. That's what this werewolf is to Amie."

"I don't care!" Dean growled.

Sam threw his hands in the air. "What the hell is your problem?"

"She is _not_ going! I don't give a shit what she feels like she needs to do!" Dean bellowed. "How many damn times do I have to say it?"

Sam seemed to snap. "I think you've said it enough. Too bad you can't, or should I say won't, say the one thing that might keep her here." He stalked toward his brother. "You stupid, egotistical ass! Just fucking tell her how you feel. Stop making excuses, stop acting like any kind of emotion is your enemy! You are going to lose the first good thing to happen to you since Lisa if you don't fix this."

Dean stepped back as Sam came face to face with him. "Get out of my face, Sam. Right now." He put his hand on Sam's chest, pushing slightly.

Sam batted Dean's hand away. "No, Dean, I won't! Not until you do something about this! Before it's too late. Stop being a goddamn little bitch!"

Dean took a shaky breath. All of the anger and frustration of the last half an hour bubbled to the surface. Before he could even think about it, he punched Sam, an uppercut to the left side of his jaw. Sam stumbled back several steps before launching himself across the room, slamming Dean to the floor. Dean brought his knees up to Sam's chest and shoved as hard as he could. Sam flew backward, landing on the bed. Dean jumped to his feet, hands up, ready to fight.

But Sam just shook his head. "I'm not going to fight you, Dean. We both know that's not what this is about anyway. Go fix it." He got up from the bed and walked out of the room, pulling the door closed behind him.

Dean sat on the bed, dejected. He couldn't just "fix it" like Sam said. It wouldn't be that easy. If he went to Amie now and told her that he loved her, she wouldn't believe him. She would think he was saying it to keep her in the bunker. Which in all honesty would be the truth. Well, partially the truth.

He needed a drink. He crossed the room and grabbed the whiskey bottle from the side table. He picked up a glass, looked at it, then set it back down. Screw the glass. He drank straight from the bottle. Maybe if he got drunk enough, he'd be able to tell Amie how he felt.

Shit, who was he kidding? Dean could barely admit to _himself_ that he loved her; how did he think he could tell her? Why couldn't she just understand that this was how he was? Talking about your feelings, all that emotional-chick-flick-shit, none of that was his style, and it wasn't who he was. She just needed to accept that. He took another drink from the whiskey bottle and ran a hand through his hair.

He looked toward the door. He'd go talk to her, calmly. Try to reason with her. She had to listen to him if he wasn't yelling at her. Somehow he would convince her to stay here at the bunker. Then he'd call Garth and send him out to Nebraska to help Bill.

Dean grabbed a shirt and pulled it on as he walked out of his door and down the hall to hers. He knocked three times and waited. When there was no answer, he knocked again, louder. "Amie?" he called impatiently.

"Go away, Dean! I do not want to talk to you!" Amie yelled through the door.

"Just give me five minutes, that's all I ask," Dean tried to sound contrite.

"No, I don't think so. There really isn't anything you can say that I care to hear. Just leave me alone." There was a thump on the door, like something had hit it.

Dean decided to try another tactic. "C'mon, baby. Just open the door and talk to me," he cajoled, purposely using the low, gruff voice that he knew Amie liked.

Dean listened for any sounds coming from the other side of the door. "Please?" he tried again. Dean could hear her moving around and the low sounds of either the television or a radio. He waited several minutes, but she didn't come to the door. Apparently she wasn't falling for it. He decided to give her some more time.

* * *

Dean hadn't meant to fall asleep. He had been trying to read the book that Game of Thrones show was based on, but sometimes the author just really liked to ramble on and on about inconsequential crap. He'd only set the book down on his chest for a second, but apparently that had been long enough. He looked at his watch as he came awake.

"Shit," he sputtered, scrambling to his feet. He'd been asleep for almost four hours. He hadn't wanted to wait that long to try to talk to Amie again.

He padded down the hallway, bare feet slapping on the floor. He knocked quietly, not wanting to wake anyone else in the bunker. He waited, but there was no answer. He knocked again, louder. He tried the door, but the deadbolt was locked.

"Amie, honey, open the door. I just want to talk to you for a minute," Dean coaxed. He put his ear against the door, straining to hear any sound—the TV, the slight movements like he'd heard earlier. There was nothing, it was completely quiet.

He rested his forehead against the door, one fist poised to start pounding. "Look, either let me in or tell me to go to hell. Just do something so I know you are in there and listening." Dean tapped his fingers impatiently against the door. He looked up when Sam stuck his head out of his bedroom door.

"She's not answering," Dean said. "Let me use your lock pick kit."

"You're gonna piss her off," Sam responded. "More than she already is." But he reached inside his room, grabbed his kit and threw it to Dean.

"I don't care." If she would answer me, I wouldn't have to do this." Dean opened the kit and quickly set to work unlocking the deadbolt. He half expected her to yank the door open before he could finish, that cute, pissed off look he found so adorable on her face.

But Amie didn't open the door, so Dean was able to pick the lock. He pushed the door open.

As soon as the door swung open, Dean knew Amie was gone. Some of her clothes were thrown haphazardly on the bed; her weapons were gone, as were her backpack, boots and jacket.

"God dammit!" he muttered, turning and stalking down the hallway. She couldn't have gone out the main door, he had locked it hours ago and pocketed the key, fully expecting her to try something like this. There was no other way out. He figured he would find her somewhere in the bunker, pissed off and pouting. He was actually surprised that she wasn't back in her room.

"Come on, Sam, help me look for her," he told his brother as he passed him.

"You think she's still here? In the bunker?" Sam inquired, following Dean.

"Yeah. I locked the front door. She won't be able to pick it and there is no other way out. She's probably just sitting somewhere, pouting. Let's find her so I can talk some sense into her." Dean answered as they walked toward the library.

Dean heard grunting and scraping sounds before he even hit the library. He quickened his pace, curious as to what it could be.

"Son of a bitch!" he swore. The noises were coming from Kevin. He'd been tied to a chair and gagged. But more disturbing than that was what Dean saw behind him.

The grate had been removed from the vent in the corner. It was leaning against the stairs. A chair was underneath the vent, a box balanced on the seat.

Sam took the gag out of Kevin's mouth. "Alright, Kev, what the hell happened?" he asked as he untied him.

"I don't know. I fell asleep while I was doing some research. When I woke up, Amie was upstairs, trying to open the door." Kevin pointed at the door at the top of the stairs. "I told her it was locked and you had the key." He nodded toward Dean. "She came back down here and looked around for a second. When she grabbed a chair to put it under the vent, I got up to go get you. Next thing I know, I'm in the chair, tied up with a gag in my mouth. She patted me on the head and apologized. Then she climbed up there, opened the vent and crawled through it. That was three hours ago."

Dean heart seemed to stutter in his chest. She had really left. He had thought she might try and he had taken the steps to stop her. He should have known she would figure out how to get out. He needed to go after her.

"She's headed for Nebraska. That's where Bill said the pureblood werewolf is. Sam, get on your computer and check for signs of werewolf activity there. She'll turn off her GPS, so I'll have to fly blind. I'm gonna go get my stuff." Dean turned to leave the room.

"Wait," Sam stopped him. "What do you mean, _you'll_ have to fly blind? I'll go with you."

Dean shook his head. "Not this time. I need to go after her alone. I don't want her to feel like the cavalry came after her. If we both show up, she'll think it's because I didn't think she was capable of doing this on her own. Maybe if I go in alone, I can convince her to let me help her. You can stay here and feed me information."

Sam thought it over for a minute and then nodded. "Okay, you're probably right. I'll get to work right away."

Dean stalked off. He wanted to get his stuff as quickly as possible. The quicker he got on the road, the quicker he could find Amie. Then and only then could he stop worrying about her.


	27. Chapter 27

**Chapter Twenty-Seven**

Claustrophobia sucked. Crawling through the ventilation system had not been her idea of fun, especially since small, enclosed spaces freaked her out. When the vent had turned upward, things had gotten very tight. There had been a moment when Amie wasn't sure she would be able to keep going. The walls of the ventilation tube had been pressing in on all sides and she'd had her hands trapped above her head. She had literally stopped breathing, the panic close to taking over. It had seemed like forever before she was able to push off of the wall and grab the edges of the tube and pull herself free. Her heart was racing and she was dripping sweat.

Amie still couldn't believe that she'd had to sneak out of the bunker like a mistress sneaking out of her lover's bedroom. Shit, it hadn't even been that idyllic. She was filthy, covered in dirt and sweat. She had a backpack tied around her ankle by the strap. She was about to steal some poor sap's car. And the worst thing was that she was still pissed. If Dean hadn't been such a gigantic ass, she wouldn't be in this situation. She should have been able to walk out the front door like a normal person. But instead she'd had to sneak out past a sleeping Dean and tie up poor Kevin. She should have known he would react the way he did. Overprotective and overbearing, that was Dean Winchester in a nutshell.

She had almost expected him to be sleeping on the floor in front of her door when she had quietly pulled it open, ready to tackle her to the ground before she could get anywhere. When he hadn't been there, she'd quickly pulled the door shut and relocked the deadbolt from the outside. She tiptoed down the hall, her boots in her hand. She had stopped in front of Dean's open door, listening for any sounds. The TV wasn't on and she couldn't hear any movement. She thought she heard a slight snore, so she peeked around the corner. He was sprawled across the bed, the book he'd been reading propped open on his chest. His long lashes lay against his cheek and his full lips were slightly parted. One leg hung off of the bed. His t-shirt had pulled up and she could see the tight muscles of his abdomen between the bottom of the t-shirt and the waistband of his shorts. She really would have liked to walk in there, wake him up and make him apologize. But she knew he wouldn't let her leave and she had to go.

Amie shook herself free of the memory. She reached down and pulled her backpack from the ventilation tube, quickly untying it from her ankle. She stood up, straightening her clothes and wiping the sweat from her face. She looked around trying to figure out exactly where she was. She had come out of the bunker in the middle of a dirt lot, trash strewn everywhere. She noticed an old Ford pick-up truck parked on the street and figured that would be as good as anything else she was going to get. She hurried over, mentally crossing her fingers that it would be unlocked. Older vehicles were much easier to hotwire and she didn't have a lot of time. The sooner she could get on the road, the better.

Amie yanked the door handle of the truck, smiling when it came open. She threw her bag on the seat and climbed in. She made quick work of the steering column, using the small screwdriver set she kept in her backpack. She ducked under the dash, pulled the wires and twisted them together. She grabbed the ignition wire and quickly tapped it against the other two wires. The truck's engine roared to life. She pumped the gas pedal, satisfied with the sounds she heard. She put the truck in first gear and quickly pulled onto the street. Hopefully, she would be in Nebraska in less than four hours. She pulled her phone from her bag so she could call Bill Washington to let him know she was on the way to kill the monster that took her family away from her.

* * *

Dean was right. Bill Washington was an idiot. First of all, he didn't even have firsthand information about the pureblood. He had literally stumbled onto the case when he had overheard a conversation between two other hunters in a bar while in Wyoming. He had raced to get to Nebraska ahead of them. Bill had done absolutely no research, so he had no idea what he was looking for. Amie had been in North Platte, Nebraska for all of five minutes when she realized the trail was rapidly growing cold. After a bit of research at the library and a quick visit to the police station, she had set out for the small town of Holdrege, an hour and a half to the west.

Unfortunately, Bill had followed her to the little bedroom community and taken the room right next to hers at the Welcome Inn. She'd managed to avoid too much conversation with him since they had arrived, but he had texted her five minutes ago to let her know he was coming over to "discuss strategy" and to make sure "she was decent, wink, wink." She was honestly beginning to think that part of this had all been a ploy to get her out alone on a hunt. Bill was a couple of years older than her and single, like most hunters. He had always been a little bit flirty—she'd had to fend off his advances before—but it seemed he had stepped it up a notch this time around.

Amie slammed her laptop closed when he knocked on her door. This was going to be painful. She braced herself for what was to come as she crossed the room to open the door.

Washington was leaning against the doorjamb, a toothpick dangling from his mouth. He smiled slowly, eyeing Amie up and down. Thank God she had taken extra care to cover up, aside from her usual pair of jeans and boots, she was wearing a long-sleeved turtleneck under her button up.

"Hiya, beautiful," he drawled in his nasally voice. "What's the word?"

Amie rolled her eyes and turned back toward the table. She really wished that it was Dean leaning in her doorway. If he hadn't been so difficult, they could be taking care of this together.

"There is no _word_, Bill. I'm trying to figure out who this pureblood werewolf is so I can go after it." She sat down at the table and reopened her laptop.

"You mean so we can go after it, right? Besides, aren't we gonna have to wait a while till there's another full moon?" Bill pulled out a chair and straddled it, his arms resting on the back.

Amie resisted the urge to roll her eyes. Did this idiot not know anything about purebloods? "No, we won't have to wait. Purebloods can transform at any time. There doesn't have to be full moon. The closer they are in generations to the alpha, the better control they have. I have a couple of ideas as to who it might be, I just have to dig a little deeper."

Bill looked a bit flabbergasted. "I didn't know that," he stuttered. "How'd you find that out?"

"I hunted one with the Winchester brothers last year, in a college town in Michigan," Amie replied.

"You've worked with the Winchesters?" Bill asked, surprised. "Couple of damn fools if you ask me. Especially Dean, always rushing in without thinking, putting everybody around him in danger. He's a class act, that one. I can't believe you worked with 'em."

"Well, I did. Still do. And they aren't fools. They're the best hunters I know. And you couldn't be more wrong about Dean." She shot a glare at Bill. Funny how even when she was pissed off at him she still felt the need to defend Dean. Amie stood up and put on her jacket. "I'm going to check on a lead."

Bill quickly got up and crossed to the door, opening it for Amie. As she passed him, he grabbed her arm, his touch lingering too long for Amie's liking. "Let's grab a bite to eat while we're out. I'd love to spend some time just chatting and catching up." He dropped an obnoxious wink.

Amie shuddered inwardly and chose not to reply. She wished again that Dean had come with her.

* * *

Amie checked the magazine on her gun, assuring herself that she had loaded it with silver bullets. She stuck it back in her boot holster and scooted further down in the passenger seat of Bill's Chevy mini-van, trying to get comfortable. She took a sip of her large coffee, hoping the extra shot of espresso would help keep her awake. She glanced at Bill, sleeping in the driver's seat. She had shook him awake several times, but he kept falling back to sleep. He was worthless.

She turned back to watching the home of Randy Gibbons, Holdrege city councilman. They had been sitting there for two hours. Amie was starting to think that this lead was going nowhere. Maybe it was time to go back to the motel and start from scratch.

Just then, Councilman Gibbons came around the side of his house. He was wearing jeans and light jacket, a beanie pulled down over his ears. Amie sat up straighter, straining to see where he was going. When she realized he was headed away from the mini-van, she quietly opened the door and crossed the street, staying in the shadows. She ducked behind the large elm tree on the corner, watching Gibbons cross the street. She waited a couple of minutes, then she followed him, doing her best to keep him in her eyesight despite the darkness.

She almost lost Gibbons after he turned down a dark alley, but fortunately she caught a glimpse of his jacket as he went around the corner. Amie stopped to pull out her gun, the darkness setting her on edge. She waited again until Gibbons footsteps had almost completely faded before she continued. She crept forward slowly, staying close to the edge of the fence. After she'd gone about fifty yards down the alley, she noticed that Gibbons had stopped. Amie pushed herself against the fence and waited. He opened a gate and slipped through it.

Amie crept forward, barely making a sound. When she reached the gate that Gibbons had gone through, she peered through the slats of the wooden fence.

Gibbons was on his knees, his back to the fence. On the ground in front of him lay a deer, obviously dead, though Amie couldn't tell for how long. As she watched, Gibbons clawed hands shot forward, ripping into the deer's chest. He pulled the deer's heart to his mouth and began gnawing at it.

Amie switched off the safety on her gun and reached up to open the gate. Just as she pulled it open, a nasally voice came out of the dark.

"Jesus Christ, woman, what the hell are you doing?" Bill drawled loudly.

Gibbons shot to his feet, his yellow eyes landing on Amie. He growled, recognition flashing in his eyes. He stalked toward her, claws and fangs bared. Bill stepped in front of him, fumbling for his gun. Gibbons nonchalantly shoved him aside. Bill hit the fence and passed out.

Gibbons braced himself to attack. He nearly flew forward, his eyes focused on Amie. She could have sworn she heard it mutter the word "you" just before it left its feet. She brought her gun up, but it wasn't fast enough. Just seconds before attacking her, the pureblood was tackled from behind. His claws raked her thigh as he went past her, trying to grab her. She hit the ground, blood pouring from a deep cut on her leg. Gibbons threw whoever had tackled him across the yard into a large trash receptacle. Amie heard a familiar grunt. Her head shot up, the name flying from her lips.

"Dean?"


	28. Chapter 28

**Chapter Twenty-Eight**

Dean tried to aim for the werewolf's heart, but he was slightly dizzy and his aim was off after being thrown across the yard. He pulled the trigger, hoping to at least hit the monster and slow it down. Instead the bullet hit just over its left shoulder. Dean saw Amie raise her gun and take aim. He took a breath, trying to steady himself. He and Amie fired simultaneously. The werewolf bolted, escaping down the dark alley. Dean dropped the hand holding his gun, tucking it back into his jacket pocket. He struggled to his feet and crossed the yard to Amie. He knelt in front of her.

"Hey, baby," he said, running a hand through her hair. "You okay?" His eyes roamed her body, checking for injuries. The only thing he noticed was the cut on her leg where the werewolf had tried to grab her.

Amie pulled away from him, but she nodded. "What about you?"

"I think I dislocated my shoulder. I heard a pop when I hit the trash. Otherwise, I'm good." He stood up and held his left hand out to her. "Come on, let's go. I think you might need stitches." Dean yanked her to her feet. "The Impala's parked up the street."

They hurried up the street to where Dean had parked his car. He tried to pull the keys from his jeans pocket but he couldn't because of his shoulder. When Amie noticed him struggling, she reached into his pocket and grabbed them.

"You can't drive with your shoulder like that. Get in the car." She opened the door for him.

Before climbing in the car, he stopped in front of Amie, trying to gauge her mood. She wouldn't make eye contact with him. He sighed and climbed in the car. She slammed the door, a bit harder than necessary. "Be nice to Baby," he muttered.

Amie drove hastily back to the motel. Dean had to bite his tongue several times so he wouldn't comment on her driving. He didn't like the way she haphazardly drove his car. She wasn't being very nice. But considering the fact that she was still not saying anything, he thought it was more prudent to keep his mouth shut.

When the silence got to be too much, Dean cleared his throat. "Hey, umm, are you still mad at me?" He glanced at her out of the corner of his eye.

Amie's hands tightened on the steering wheel. She was quiet for a second before muttering "Yes."

Dean decided to keep his mouth shut for a while longer.

Amie turned into the parking lot of a very small motel and parked at the back of the lot. Dean noticed her grab the Impala door to steady herself as she got out of the car. She probably needed that cut stitched up before she lost any more blood.

He pushed open the passenger side door and followed Amie to one of the rooms. He was surprised when she didn't try to slam the door in his face. Maybe she was coming around.

Dean shoved the door closed, wincing. He needed to get his shoulder back in place. He watched as Amie threw her jacket on a chair. She quickly stripped off her button-down and turtleneck until she was just wearing a tank top, then she kicked off her boots and socks.

"Let's fix your shoulder," she said as she walked behind Dean. She grabbed his jacket and gently pulled it off. Her fingers grazed his neck and ran down his arm as she helped him take off his shirt, leaving him in only a t-shirt. He put his head back, savoring even the slightest touch. When she pushed him toward the bed, he couldn't help but flash a grin at her over his shoulder.

She shook her head, but Dean thought she might be trying not to smile. He stretched out on one of the beds, Amie right next to him. She grabbed his arm and tucked her right foot into his armpit. He wrapped his hand around her wrist, holding tight.

"Ready?" she asked.

Dean nodded.

"One, two, three!" On three, Amie pulled on his arm at the same time that she pushed with her foot. Dean felt his shoulder joint slide back into place.

"Okay," he grunted. Amie scrambled backwards, away from Dean. He rolled to his side and slid off the bed, his shoulder throbbing.

"There's some Advil on the bathroom counter," she said, pointing to the door. She crossed the room and starting digging through her backpack.

Dean sighed. This cold-shoulder shit was annoying. He went into the bathroom and grabbed the bottle of Advil. He dry swallowed three and took a minute to splash some water on his face.

When he came out of the bathroom, Amie was sitting in her underwear on one of the motel chairs threading a needle with dental floss. She had an open bottle of whiskey sitting on the table next to her elbow and a couple of towels under her leg. Dean shook his head, frustrated that she would try to stitch herself up.

"Do you want me to do that?" Dean asked, starting across the room.

"No!" Amie retorted. She took a deep breath. "No, I got it." She took a quick drink from the bottle, wincing as she swallowed.

Dean stopped and leaned against the doorjamb. He watched her closely. She took another deep breath and moved to push the needle into the sensitive skin of her thigh. She bit her lip, concentrating. When Dean noticed her hands visibly shaking, he stalked across the room.

"God dammit, let me do it!" He took the needle from her hand, replacing it with the bottle of whiskey. He knelt on the floor between her legs. He splayed his hand across her naked upper thigh, holding her leg in place. He pushed the needle into her thigh, trying to work quickly, wincing at her sharp intake of breath. She took several long pulls from the whiskey bottle, though he knew she hated the stuff. Beer was the strongest alcohol she usually drank.

Dean finished the tiny, neat stitches, hoping they wouldn't leave a scar. He gently rubbed his thumb over the wound, watching as goose bumps appeared on Amie's thigh. He hesitated for just a second, then leaned forward and placed a kiss on her upper thigh, just above the cut. His lips lingered for a moment, feeling her leg shake slightly.

"Dean, don't…." Amie murmured, her voice catching.

He sat back on his heels. Amie was staring into his face, tears in her eyes. She just shook her head. He pushed himself up, until he was inches from her face, his hand on either side of the chair, effectively trapping her.

"I'm sorry," he breathed, his voice quiet. "I really am." He leaned forward, intent on capturing her lips with his.

Amie pulled back, out of his reach. "I can't, Dean. I thought I could, but I was wrong. I love you, but I can't do this."

"I'm trying. I told you, I'm doing my best," Dean said, frustration clear in his voice. He stood up and took a step back.

Amie shook her head again. "I don't think you are. I think you're hoping I'll just accept you the way you are, take you like this. You're hoping I'll forget about the rest, forget about the fact that you won't tell me you love me."

"I'm not doing that…." Dean muttered.

"Yes, you are." Amie interrupted. "I thought I was okay with it, with you not being able to say I love you. But it's not just that, I feel like you keep pushing me away. Don't you think I know what it's like? The need to lock yourself down, keep everyone out?"

Dean couldn't hold back his anger. "No, you don't understand! I have lost everyone and everything I care about! My parents, Jo, Ellen, Bobby! And worst of all, Lisa and Ben! I should have known not to care about them, that they would be taken away from me! If I let myself care about you, then I'll lose you, too! I always do. I lose everyone."

Amie was crying, the tears covering her face. "I get it Dean, I do! I have spent the last three years running away from everybody, not letting anyone get close to me. I was too scared. Until you. And now I'm willing to let you in, but you are too damn stubborn to do the same. I don't want to run from you, but you aren't leaving me any choice. I have to get out now before you break my heart more than you already have."

Amie's words stung. He didn't want to hurt her, hadn't meant to hurt her. But he was so terrified of getting close to anyone that he automatically pushed them away. It was what he had done all of his life.

"I don't know what to do. I don't want to lose you, but I'm afraid to let you in." His shoulders slumped. "No matter what I do, it's the wrong thing. All I know is I don't want to hurt you."

"Then let me go. I'll walk away and I won't look back. We can both get out of this before it's too late," Amie implored. She sat down on the end of the bed, her head in her hands.

"But don't you see, I can't do that either," Dean responded. "I'm terrified you'll get hurt or taken again. I would never forgive myself if anything happened to you. The only way you're safe is if you stay with me."

Amie was so fast, Dean barely saw her move. She was across the room in a split second, screaming in his face. "That is such bullshit! I can take care of myself and you know it! You just can't be honest with me or with yourself. Just let me go, Dean, stop doing this and let me go!" She fell against him, her small fists beating against his chest.

Dean grabbed her wrists, trying to stop her. She wrenched free and threw a punch. He was so shocked at her sudden outburst that Amie was able to land a blow to his cheekbone. Her ring scratched his cheek and he felt blood drip down his face.

When she tried to hit him again, he grabbed her upper arms. "Amie, stop it!" he snapped. They struggled for a few seconds as Amie tried to break free and Dean tried to keep her from hitting him again. Once she realized that she wouldn't be able to land anymore blows, she clutched the front of Dean's t-shirt with both hands.

Before he knew what was happening, Amie yanked him to her and starting kissing him, desperately, urgently. He grabbed her head, his fingers tangling in her hair, his tongue stabbing into her mouth. Nothing else mattered. The only thing of importance in his life was Amie, right here, right now, in his arms, where she belonged. He forgot every reason he had for pushing her away, every reason he had for not telling her the truth. The only thing that mattered was her. Dean knew then that he couldn't let her go. No more games, no more lies. He was ready to be honest with not only her, but himself as well.

Dean put his forehead against Amie's, his arms sliding down to wrap around her waist. "I love you," he finally said, the words he'd held back for so long falling easily from his lips. "I love you, baby. Please don't leave me. I can't live without you."

At Dean's words, a look of shock shot across Amie's face. She tried to take a step back, but Dean tightened his grip, keeping her locked against him. She actually looked like she might faint.

"I'm not lying. And I'm not saying it because it's what you want to hear." Dean whispered, his voice catching. "I'm telling you the truth. I am in love with you." Dean was surprised at how desperately he needed her to believe him.

Amie wiped a tear from his cheek with her thumb. Then she grabbed the back of his head, her hands twisting in his hair. She dragged his lips to hers, coaxing his mouth open with her tongue. She wrapped her other hand in the front of his t-shirt, yanking Dean as close as possible.

Dean responded by shoving her tank top up and over her head, breaking the kiss for the briefest second. His hands came up to grasp her breasts, kneading the soft flesh, his thumbs lightly grazing the taut nipples trapped behind her bra.

Amie moaned. Her hands fumbled with Dean's belt, unbuckling it before she unbuttoned the top button of his jeans. Dean's hand moved back to her waist so he could hold her as he walked to the bed, keeping her tight against him. He must have misjudged the distance because his knees hit the bed sooner than he had expected. He stumbled and they fell, arms and legs entangled. Dean threw his head back, laughing.

"Oops," he chuckled. He tucked Amie under his arm, intent on slowing things down. While desperate, angry, make-up sex was awesome, he wanted to take his time and savor every moment.

She brought her hand up to his face. "I love you," she told him, running her hand back and forth across his stubble.

"I love you, too," he said, turning his face into her hand and kissing the palm. He took her lips in his, lightly nipping her lower lip, before kissing her slowly, taking his time. His tongue explored every facet of her mouth as he ran his hands across her body.

Dean reached around and unhooked her bra, throwing it to the floor. He slid his hands into her underwear, tugging them off, dropping them next to her bra. He ran his hand up her leg, briefly grazing her soft center before continuing up until it was splayed across her stomach. He continued caressing her with his lips, moving so his tongue traced the contours of her face and neck. He continued down until he reached Amie's breasts, his mouth suckling the tender flesh of first one, then the other. He slid his hand down her stomach, his fingers tracing small circles as he went. Amie arched her back in response to the movement of his hand. Dean inserted one finger, continuing the circular movement, until Amie was squirming. Then he inserted a second finger as he rubbed her clit with his thumb. Amie grabbed his wrist, straining against his hand, muscles clenching, light moans falling from her lips. Dean softly bit her nipple, the combined pleasure and pain pushing Amie over the edge. Her orgasm shot through her as Dean held her close.

He quickly stood up, intent on removing his clothes. Amie inched over to the edge of the bed, sat up, and unbuttoned Dean's pants, pushing them and his underwear down. He stepped out of them, kicking them away. Amie gathered his erection in both hands, looking up at Dean through her lashes. Her tongue flicked out and she slowly licked the tip of his cock. Dean clamped his hand down on her shoulder as he jerked in her hands, his body responding involuntarily to what Amie was doing to him.

"Amie…," he panted, the words getting lost in his pleasure.

"Shhh," she whispered before sliding Dean into her mouth.

He nearly lost it. He threw his head back, teeth clenched, as he concentrated on not coming. Amie's mouth was doing the things to him he'd always dreamed about her doing. She slid her tongue down his shaft until she reached his balls, taking first one and then the other into her mouth, gently massaging them with her lips and tongue. Then she very slowly moved back to the tip of his cock, her tongue constantly moving and flicking. When she reached behind Dean and grabbed him, pulling him flush against her so he was almost completely in her mouth, he thought he would die of ecstasy. Amie worked him with her mouth, her hand at the base of his shaft, for several minutes until he couldn't wait any longer.

Dean pushed her back on the bed, pulling one leg over his shoulder. Amie guided him until the tip of his erection met her center, very wet and ready for him. He slid just the tip of his cock in, enjoying the look of pleasure and anticipation on Amie's face. He lingered there, moving in and out, just an inch or so at a time, prolonging the inevitable.

"Dean, please…," Amie whimpered, her hands clutching his back, her hips straining to take him.

Dean pushed himself farther, but he still didn't enter her completely. He was enjoying making her wait. He rocked against her, pulling himself in and out, never fully taking her as Amie's moans built into screams of passion, her hands digging into his back, her nails scratching him.

Finally, Dean entered her completely, no longer able to wait. Amie let out a moan, her head thrown back. They moved together, faster and harder, their hips bucking against each other. Dean felt his orgasm building, the pleasure moving through every part of his body. When Amie screamed his name, her back arched, her body shuddering, Dean let himself go, his climax pushing every other thought out of his head. He collapsed on the bed, spent.


	29. Chapter 29

**Chapter Twenty-Nine**

Amie sat at the table, checking news reports on her laptop, while Dean was in the shower. She would have been in there with him only that would have set them back at least another hour. They had wasted enough time. Not that Amie considered the time they spent together last night wasted. They had been up for hours, talking and making love. Amie felt like she finally understood why Dean had such a hard time admitting how he felt and letting himself care. And she hoped that he now understood why she needed to kill this werewolf, what it had taken from her, how her life had been torn apart.

A knock at the door startled her, pulling her from her thoughts. She stood up and stretched, her muscles aching, though it was a good ache. She grabbed her gun from the nightstand before crossing to the door. She peered through the peephole.

"Shit," she muttered, flicking the gun's safety on and opening the door.

"Bill…hi," she said. He was fired up and obviously pissed, Amie could tell. He pushed past her into the room.

"What the fuck, Amie?" Bill yelled, his drawl mysteriously gone. "You just leave me lying in an alley and take off? And with a god damn Winchester none the less." He jerked a thumb over his shoulder. "I saw Dean's precious car. Which room is he staying in? I think I'll go give him a piece of my mind."

Just then, Dean came out of the bathroom, nothing but a towel wrapped around his waist, droplets of water still glistening on his chest and abdomen. He stopped next to Amie, resting his hand on the small of her back.

"I'm staying in this room, as luck would have it. What did you want to tell me?" Dean asked, one eyebrow cocked, a smirk on his gorgeous full lips.

Bill looked between Amie and Dean, realization slowly dawning on his face. "Well, shit," he mumbled. "Um, hey, Dean. It's been a while. How's Sam?" he asked, seemingly flabbergasted.

"Sammy's fine, thanks for asking," Dean replied. He dropped a kiss on Amie's temple, then crossed to the bed, where his clothes lay on the top of his duffel bag. "But didn't you just tell Amie you wanted to give me a piece of your mind?" Dean dropped his towel, looking pleased at Bill's shocked look. He took his time pulling on his clothes. "Are you sure you have any to spare?"

Amie put a hand to her mouth, trying to hold back the laughter. She snorted through her fingers. Bill shot her a dirty look. She shrugged, glaring back.

"I…um…just thought it was wrong of her to leave me passed out cold in that alley. After all, we were supposed to be each other's back up. But when I came to, no one was there. It really pissed me off. At first I was worried about her, but then I get back here and see that piece of shit car…." Bill faltered when Dean shot him a glare. "I mean…your car outside, lights on in her room. I guess I should have known, put two and two together. And the typical Winchester behavior, running off with the girl, leaving people behind."

Amie watched Dean, sensing the anger building in him. She quickly stepped between him and Bill. "Look, Bill, I'm sorry about that, I really am. But Dean was hurt and I had a cut that needed stitches. The werewolf was gone. Honestly, I didn't think it would be a problem." She glanced back at Dean, shrugging. She wasn't about to tell Bill that he hadn't even crossed her mind. "Besides, you've made it pretty clear how you feel about the Winchester boys and I figured it was best if I kept you two apart."

"Yeah, well, you're damn lucky I didn't bust in here last night and let you have it," Bill muttered.

Dean took two steps toward Bill. "No, _you're_ damn lucky you didn't come in here. You would have gotten your ass kicked," he growled. He looked ready to kick Bill's ass right then and there.

Amie had to stifle another laugh. She thought that Dean would have done more than kick Bill's ass if he had walked in on them last night. Especially considering _what_ they'd been doing. She straightened her shoulders and placed a hand on Dean's chest.

"Dean, wait," she said. "I think we all need to calm down." She turned to the other hunter. "Bill, while I do appreciate your help, I think Dean and I are going to take it from here. I'm sorry, but I'm not sure you're equipped to handle something of this caliber. Dean's hunted a pureblood before and this is very important to me. Thanks for helping me get this far, but I think it's time for you to go." Amie was trying to get Bill out of the room before Dean killed him.

"You cold-hearted bitch," Bill sputtered. "You used me to get you this far, then you call in this asshole. Probably just so you could get laid."

Dean was across the room in an instant. Even if Amie had wanted to stop him, she wouldn't have had a chance. He grabbed Bill by the scruff of the neck, pushing him toward the door. He yanked the door open and made a move as if to push Bill out. Instead, he slammed him face first into the doorjamb. "Get the fuck out of here before I tear you apart, you bastard."

Bill put a hand to his nose, flinching as he saw the blood on his fingers. Anger flashed in his eyes and his hand went to his jacket pocket.

"Please give me a reason," Dean said, his low voice menacing. "Walk away while you can still walk."

Amie saw the indecision on Bill's face. For a minute she thought he was actually going to pull his gun on Dean. She tightened the grip on her own gun, her finger moving to flick off the safety. But Bill just shook his head.

"You Winchesters really are a piece of work. Have fun with the little woman, Dean. She's a handful." Bill walked off, pulling his car keys from his pocket. He didn't turn back at all, just got in his mini-van and left.

* * *

Amie was digging through Gibbons desk drawers while Dean searched upstairs. She hadn't found anything useful yet, but she wasn't giving up until she did.

She and Dean had come to Councilman Gibbons' house right after Dean kicked Bill out of their motel room. The house was deserted. She figured Gibbons must have made his way back at some point last night. It was obvious that someone had packed up as quick as possible—drawers were left open and papers were strewn around the office and upstairs bedroom. There wasn't a computer to be found anywhere in the house. The garage was also empty, a large stain on the floor where a car had formerly been parked.

Amie rifled through the bottom desk drawer, yanking papers out and haphazardly throwing them on the floor. She'd been searching for a half an hour, but she hadn't found a damn thing. Frustrated, she kicked the drawer shut. Something clunked as it closed. She pulled it open again, but nothing was left in the drawer. She spent a couple of minutes examining it until she decided to take it off its track and out of the desk.

She dumped it on the floor, trying to see if there was a secret compartment. She flipped it around several times, but there were no secret buttons or keyholes visible anywhere on the drawer. Maybe she had imagined she'd heard something. Amie dropped the drawer to the floor. And heard the clunk again. At this point, finesse was unnecessary, so she turned the drawer bottom side up and slammed her 3-inch heel through the middle of it.

She heard Dean chuckling from the doorway. "Cute," he smirked. "And I always thought your boots were impractical. Guess I was wrong."

"Seemed easiest," Amie said, shrugging. "And these boots aren't impractical. I kick ass in these boots. Plus, they make me taller." She dropped a wink in Dean's direction.

She crouched down, sifting through the pieces of the broken drawer. She finally found a small red notebook with dates, locations, and notes scribbled inside. She flipped through it, but didn't see anything right away. "I think I'm going to need my computer. We'll have to go through this page by page and see what we can find."

"Well, let's go back to the motel. I didn't find anything and that may be the only lead we have," Dean said, pulling Amie to her feet. "But I need food, first. I saw a little café on the way here. There was a sign for homemade pie in the window." His grin got bigger.

Amie laughed, kissing Dean on the cheek. He certainly did love his pie.

* * *

"Okay, here we go," Amie said as she spread the map out across the table. She started making X's across Idaho, Montana and Utah. "These are the locations and dates I've found so far in the book, but I'm not anywhere close to done. It starts in 2000 and goes through to a couple of weeks ago. We need to search the news sites to see if there is anything significant that happened on any of those dates, in any of those places."

"I can do that," Dean volunteered, setting his third piece of pie down. He pulled Amie's laptop over and pulled up a search engine. He entered a random date and location. While he waited, he absentmindedly flipped through the red notebook.

"Okay, here we go," Dean said, reading from the laptop screen. "August 20, 2001, Bozeman, Montana. Three dead in apparent animal attack. Hearts torn from the chest." Dean entered another date. "February 12, 2006, Boise, Idaho. One killed, apparent animal attack."

Dean kept entering dates and locations, each one coming up with a similar story—someone dead, killed by what looked like an animal. Sometimes it was reported that the hearts were missing, other times it wasn't.

"So basically, this notebook is full of the dates and locations of werewolf murders. Sometimes there's notes with a name or other significant information." Dean's voice was filled with disgust. "Son of a bitch."

Amie sat on the end of the bed, astonished at the magnitude of what Dean was telling her. "It logged its kills? Kept track of where and when? There are hundreds of dates and locations in there from the last thirteen years. I don't understand."

"Who knows how these things think, or what its motivation was," he replied, still flipping through the notebook. He stopped, a strange look crossing his face. "When were your husband and son killed?" he asked.

Amie didn't even have to think of the answer, she blurted it out immediately. "October 10, 2010. Why?"

"And you lived in Missoula, Montana, right?" Dean asked.

Amie nodded. She didn't like the look on his face. He had the notebook gripped tightly in his left hand, his right hand running nervously through his hair.

"What's your maiden name?" Dean swallowed noticeably.

The wheels were turning in Amie's head, trying to figure out where Dean was going with these questions. "It's Caspian," she whispered.

Dean was in front of her in less than a heartbeat. He sat next to her on the bed, wrapping his arm around her. He held the notebook out to her, his thumb pointing to an entry on the page:

_"10/10/10: Missoula, MT; Caspian's daughter still alive. 2 dead—her husband and son."_

Dean put his mouth right next to her ear, his words quiet. "It's him, honey. It's the pureblood that killed your family."


	30. Chapter 30

**Chapter Thirty**

"No, she's asleep," Dean answered, his voice quiet. He had stepped outside so he could talk to Sam without waking Amie up. "Well, it's probably because she got drunk." He paused, listening. "Yes, really," he laughed. "If she hadn't, she would have gone off after the pureblood, even though we're not exactly sure where it is. We're gonna start in Idaho. Idaho Falls to be exact. I'm going to let her sleep for a couple hours, then we'll leave, stop and get you and head out. I'll call when we're close. Later."

Dean leaned against the wall of the motel, enjoying the feel of the crisp, fall air. He needed to go in and sleep for a while. They had a fifteen hour trip to Idaho ahead of them. He just needed a minute to process everything that had happened this evening. He was thankful Amie had finally fallen asleep. Well, maybe passed out was a better way of putting it.

Once they had figured out that this actually was the werewolf she was after, she had paced around the small motel room, wringing her hands and muttering. Dean had let her move around, knowing that the nervous energy she was feeling was normal. He'd poured her a drink, waiting to catch her eye. Once she slowed down long enough to actually focus on him, he put the whiskey in her hand.

"You need to calm down, baby," he'd requested. "Take a couple of deep breaths and drink that. I know you're anxious to go, and we will, soon. I promise. But we still have some work to do. We can't just take off with no idea where to go."

Amie had nodded at him, grimacing as she chugged the drink. She held the empty glass out to Dean and he poured her another one from the bottle in his hand.

One hour and five drinks later they had figured out they needed to go to Idaho Falls, Idaho. The werewolf, Gibbons, had several bank accounts near or in that area. It was as good a place to start as any.

Amie had wanted to leave right away. It took him a while, but Dean had finally convinced her that they both needed sleep and that they should also stop and get Sam. The more hunters the better. Scratch that. The more hunters Dean could trust the better. Once she had quit arguing with him and agreed to wait, she had stretched out on the bed, sleep taking her within minutes.

Dean shook his head. He still couldn't believe he was going along with this. He was one hundred percent convinced that this pureblood wanted to kill Amie. He didn't know how he knew, he just felt it in his bones. But, now that Dean understood how important killing it was to Amie he wasn't about to let anything stand in her way. He would do whatever it took to help her kill the monster she had chased for so long.

Dean ran a hand through his hair, his thoughts wandering off in a new direction. Amie didn't know that Cas was only about thirty minutes outside of Idaho Falls in Rexburg. He was going to have to tell her because he should probably stop and check on him while they were there. Introducing Amie to Cas was going to be interesting. His extremely unconventional best friend, a former angel, and the woman he loved. Just the thought made Dean smile.

Time to get some sleep. He slipped back in the room, locking the door behind him. He stripped down to his underwear as he crossed the room. He crawled into the bed, snuggling up to Amie. She turned in her sleep, wrapping her arm around his waist and resting her forehead on his chest. He pressed his cheek to her head and let himself drift off to sleep.

* * *

"Here," Dean said as he handed a large Styrofoam cup filled with coffee to Amie through the Impala's window. She took her hand off of her head long enough to take it from him.

"Thanks," she mumbled, wincing.

Dean tried not to laugh as he circled around Baby. Amie had one hell of a hangover. He felt partially responsible, seeing as how he had been the one feeding her drink after drink to get her to calm down. He probably should have stopped her after one or two instead of letting her drink five.

He climbed in the driver's seat, anxious to get on the road. They'd already gotten a later start than he had wanted and this stop for coffee wasn't helping speed things along. He pulled the Impala's heavy door closed as quietly as possible, though he still saw Amie wince at the clunk it made.

"There's some aspirin in the glove box," he reminded her.

She nodded as she opened the glove box. She had to sift around for a couple of minutes, moving old cell phones, maps and bullets aside until she found the bottle all the way in the back. She downed a couple of the aspirin with the water bottle she had resting between her legs, then leaned her head back against the seat with a sigh.

"Come here," Dean coaxed, patting the seat next to him.

Amie slid over and he wrapped his right arm around her, driving with his left. She rested her head on his shoulder.

"Can I ask you a question?" Dean said, trying to keep his voice low.

Amie nodded. "Sure, what is it?"

"Do you have any idea why the werewolf would have put 'Caspian's daughter' in his book?" He watched Amie out of the corner of his eye. "Most of the other entries didn't have names and if they did, it was the family's name. Why would yours say 'Caspian's daughter' instead of 'Williams' family?' And why point out that you were still alive?"

Amie was quiet for so long that Dean was about to repeat the question when she finally answered.

"I'm sure it has to do with my father," she said, her voice catching at the end.

Dean looked at Amie in disbelief, before looking back at the road. "What could it possibly have to do with your father? I thought he was a farmer."

"He was a farmer, sort of. The ranch was actually really successful, so we always had a lot of farmhands and such around. They pretty much took care of the day to day operations. Along with my mom." Amie paused.

"But…?" Dean felt like he was pulling teeth. Nobody really knew a lot about Amie's past. He and Sam had met her two years ago, just days before he ended up in Purgatory, but she'd been hunting for about three years. The only thing Dean knew about her life prior to hunting was that she'd been married with a son and her family had been killed by a werewolf. Anytime her past had come up, she had glossed over it, giving as little detail as possible.

"Daddy was a hunter," she eventually said. "A really good one. He taught me everything he knew, pretty much from the time I could walk. I was making his salt rounds when I was 7, could read _and_ speak perfect Latin by the time I was 10, exorcised my first demon at 12 and killed a vampire when I was just 16. Daddy and Mom were positive I'd follow right in Daddy's footsteps, the good little hunter."

Dean snorted. "The family business."

Amie nodded. "Yeah, the family business. Except I wasn't sure it was what I wanted to do. I remember coming home one night from a hunt just beat to shit and covered in some monster's blood and guts and all I could think was that there had to be more. There had to be a life outside of hunting. I wanted a life, a family. I didn't want to raise my kids to be hunters."

Dean was taken aback at Amie's words. Those were his _mom's_ words. She hadn't wanted her boys to be hunters either.

"I tried for two years to get my father to see my side, to let me try going to college or living on my own for a while. He wouldn't do it. Said the only way I'd be safe was if I stayed with him. I felt trapped, stuck with nowhere to go, my options taken away from me. When I was 19, I packed my stuff and took off. I snuck out in the middle of the night so my father wouldn't stop me. I never saw him or my mother again. I talked to them a few times over the years; sent them pictures of my family, things like that. But I never told them where I was. I guess my mom started drinking heavily after I left—though she'd always had a problem with alcohol—and Daddy just threw himself into hunting, almost constantly on the road. They eventually sold the ranch and as time went on, we quit talking. And now, they're both dead."

Amie stopped. She took a deep breath before continuing, though Dean could tell she was close to breaking down. "Daddy must have crossed this werewolf at some point. Pissed it off, bad enough that killing me and my family is part of its revenge. I can't even remember if I ever hunted a werewolf with him. I'd have to find his journal. I'm pretty sure it's in storage. I haven't looked at it in years, but maybe…."

Dean hugged Amie to his side, dropping a kiss on her temple. "We'll figure it out, don't worry."

Amie shrugged and snuggled into Dean's side, her arm around his waist. After a couple of minutes, he felt her breathing slow down and he knew she was asleep.

It sounded like Amie's father had been a lot like him. Very protective. Dean didn't think Amie realized it, but when she'd been telling him about her father, she said he'd told her that the only way she'd be safe was if she stayed with him. Dean had used those exact words with her. He thought maybe he understood now why they had made her so angry. He knew he was going to have to be careful, to really work at not being so overprotective that he made Amie feel trapped. But of all the things he needed to work on in this relationship that was the hardest. It went against his very nature. His job was to protect the people he cared about. Period.

* * *

When Dean pulled Baby into the garage, Sam was just walking back down the stairs. He turned around and came back up, waiting as Dean parked.

"Hey," Sam said, leaning in the driver's side window. He nodded toward Amie, who was stretched out on the front seat, her head on Dean's leg. "What's up with Sleeping Beauty?"

Dean smiled at his brother. "Well, her and Jack got a little friendly last night," he chuckled. "Hangover."

Amie sat up, grimacing. "A bitch of one. It's your brother's fault, too." She crawled out of the car, groaning as she stood up, a hand to her head.

"Me? Yeah, I don't think so." Dean said, feigning innocence. He pushed open the car door, stretching as he got out. He noticed Sam's bags by the stairs. "I see you're ready," he said.

"Yep." Sam crossed around the front of the car and pulled Amie into a hug. "Hey, you. It's good to see you. Do me a favor and don't run off again. We were worried about you."

Amie hugged him back. "I'll try not to, as long as Dean doesn't act like an ass," she smiled.

"Okay, okay. Hands off my woman," Dean joked, pulling Sam and Amie apart. Except he was surprised that he had felt a slight twinge of jealousy when Sam wrapped his arms around Amie.

Amie laughed. "I'm gonna go change and get some clean clothes. And try to find my bottle of Excedrin." She took her backpack out of the car, hanging it by one strap from her shoulder. She turned to Dean, lacing her hands together around his neck. She stood on her tiptoes and kissed him, urging him with her tongue to kiss her back. He complied.

"Mm, I love you, baby," he told her, not caring that Sam could hear.

Amie kissed him again. "Love you, too," she exhaled.

Sam punched him on the arm as Amie walked away. "I'll be damned, there is a heart in there somewhere. I can't believe you actually did it."

"Yeah, well…," Dean mumbled, not really wanting it to discuss it with Sam. "Someone told me to stop being a little bitch. So, that's what I did."

"Unbelievable. But cool." Sam shook his head, a huge grin on his face. "So, how did…," he started to ask, but Dean stopped him.

"And that's as far as this conversation goes. I love her, I told her, we're good, end of story, roll the credits. Chick flick moment is over, Sammy. Now put your shit in the car so we can leave."

Dean sauntered away, though he could feel Sam's eyes following him. He shook his head. Damn nosy little brother anyway.


	31. Chapter 31

**Chapter Thirty-One**

Amie finished paying for the two motel rooms at the Destinations Inn, the first motel they had seen after pulling into town. She took back her credit card, the one with the name Stephanie Nicks on it, and stepped out into the dark night. She pulled her jacket closed and zipped it up, the cold catching her off guard. She searched the parking lot to see where Dean had parked the Impala.

She finally spotted it, at the back, in the shadows. Of course. The boys were standing by the trunk, talking, their heads close together. Amie stopped to watch them for a minute. She always liked catching the brothers in what their friend Charlie liked to call their "broments." They were closer than any other siblings she had ever met and she envied their relationship. No matter what, they always had each other. She didn't have any siblings of her own, so after she lost Frank and Joseph, she was truly alone, with no one to turn to. Amie knew that Dean felt like he lost everyone he cared about, but at least he always had Sam.

Dean's voice interrupted her thoughts. "There you are. I was going to come looking for you." He sounded relieved. She was actually surprised he'd let her go pay for the rooms. She knew he was making an effort to not be his normal overprotective self and she really appreciated that he was trying.

Amie handed Sam and Dean their room keys and pocketed hers. "Okay, the rooms are adjacent with a connecting door. Second floor—207 and 208. We can park around the back; there's an entrance back there that opens with a room key. Stairs are right there and they practically lead straight to our rooms." She climbed in the back as the boys got in the front. Dean put the car in gear and drove around to the back of the building.

She and the boys made quick work of unloading their bags and weapons from the trunk. They made their way up the stairs and found the rooms. When Dean started to follow Sam into one of the rooms, Amie cleared her throat.

Dean looked back over his shoulder. "What?" he asked, looking slightly confused.

"Okay, if you want to stay in Sam's room…," Amie shrugged and unlocked her door.

"Oh, hell, no," Dean grinned. "I was just trying to be good and give you your space. You don't have to ask me twice." He followed Amie through the open door, smirking at Sam. Sam just shrugged and closed his door.

Amie caught Dean's smirk out of the corner of her eye. He opened his mouth and she just knew something snarky was going to come out.

"Can it, Winchester," she warned. "Or you'll wish you'd bunked with your brother."

Dean shut his mouth and instead laughed a deep, throaty laugh. He flipped on the light switch by the door.

It was a typical, shabby, motel room. It still looked cheap, even though the management had tried to hide it by decorating it with a 'vacation destination' theme. It looked like the theme of this room was the Grand Canyon. A huge painting of it dominated one wall and the room was painted in muted desert tones. There were even several fake cacti. It was the kind of room she'd basically lived in for the past three years and the kind she remembered from her childhood. They all started to look the same after a while.

Amie threw her bag on the bed and pulled her laptop out of her backpack. She had emailed her parents' former ranch foreman, Mitchell, before they left the bunker. All of her father's belongings had been put in a storage unit in Coeur d'Alene after his death and she was hopeful that Mitchell could get a hold of her father's journal and send it to her. If anyone knew where it was, it would be him.

Amie watched Dean walk the perimeter of the room and check the windows while she waited for the wi-fi to connect. He was always so meticulous about their safety no matter where they were. He brushed a hand across her shoulder as he passed, his touch sending a tingle down her spine.

He knocked on the door between the rooms, waiting impatiently for Sam to open it. Once he did, Dean strode through it, shouldering him aside. Sam looked at Amie, eyebrows raised. She heard him yell Dean's name as he followed him into his room. She laughed to herself, then turned to her computer. She saw that Mitchell had finally replied to her.

"_I have the journal. I can send it to you ASAP. Let me know where. Hope you're well. Miss you kiddo—M."_

Amie typed up a quick reply, giving Mitchell the address of the motel and the name she was staying under. She asked him to send it next day air. She wanted to go through it as soon as possible.

One she finished the email, Amie went into the other room to see what the boys were up to. Sam's room was decorated in a Hawaiian theme, right down to the tiki torches and flowered print on everything. Dean was repeating his perimeter walk in this room as well. Once he was done, he flopped down in one of the motel chairs, his feet on the table.

"That should stay unlocked," Dean said, pointing at the door between the rooms. "Just in case. In the morning we'll see if we can find a local address on Gibbons. We can use the FBI identities at the banks, maybe catch a break."

"Works for me," Sam said.

Amie sat on the end of Sam's bed, lying back to stare at the ceiling. "Mitchell answered me. He's sending Daddy's journal. Hopefully it will shed some light on this werewolf. I wish I could remember if he and I ever hunted one, but for the life of me I can't. Maybe when I was really young. I was 11 the first time he took me hunting. A lot of it's a blur, there were so many over the years. He was so driven, all about the kill. I remember that." She sat up. "Dammit, I need that journal!" She stood up, pacing the room, her head spinning. She felt like she should remember something about the werewolf, anything. She'd gone on so many hunts with her father, killed so many monsters. There'd been the djinn in '89, the ghouls in '87….

"Amie? Amie!" Dean's deep voice broke through her musings.

She stopped long enough to look at Dean. "What?" she asked.

"Honey, you need to calm down. The journal will get here and tomorrow we'll find Gibbons. Come on, let's leave Sam alone," Dean said, coming up behind her and wrapping his arms around her waist. He picked her up and carried to the other room, her feet dangling a foot off the ground. "Later, Sammy. Keep the door closed and don't worry about any moans you hear."

Sam was laughing, but Amie wasn't amused. "Dean!" she yelled, batting at his hands. She tried kicking his shins, but that wasn't working either. He started tickling her as they walked. "Let me go!" She squealed, trying not to laugh.

"I don't think so, gorgeous. You need to relax a little. I'm gonna take care of that. I promise," Dean breathed in her ear, kicking the door closed as they entered their room.

* * *

Amie hurried up the stairs to their room, the large envelope clutched in her hands. Her stomach was flipping nervously, though she wasn't sure why. It was a book, just a stupid book where her father kept notes on the things that went bump in the night. She unlocked the door and stepped inside. She could hear Dean and Sam in the other room, talking. They'd been researching the addresses they got at the bank and credit union, trying to decide which of the three they wanted to go to first, when the front desk had called about the package. She'd gone to get it, assuring Dean she would hurry back.

She closed the door as quietly as she could, wanting just a few minutes to look through the journal on her own. She sat on the bed and ripped open the envelope, dumping its contents on the bed. The journal fell out, along with a slip of paper. She picked up the paper and read the note from Mitchell: "I've been waiting for you to ask for this. Your dad left specific instructions. He said he knew you'd want it one day and when you did, to make sure you got it. I guess that day has come. Be careful.—M." She set the note aside and picked up the journal.

Amie was surprised at the weight of the book, how much had been added to it after she had left. She ran her hand across the plain black cover, worn from years of use. She flipped through the pages, not looking for anything in particular, just remembering. She could still see her father hunched over it, scribbling notes. When she started travelling on his hunts with him, he would sometimes let her add her thoughts to his, supervising as she carefully wrote in the journal. When she was 16 and had killed her first vampire, he had let her post an entire journal entry. She remembered how good it felt knowing she had made her daddy proud.

She wiped the tears from her cheeks, startled at the emotion she was feeling after such a long time. She'd always loved her father, in fact she'd been a total daddy's girl, and walking away from her family had haunted her every day of her life. Holding her father's journal in her hands just reminded her of how painful leaving him had been. She hadn't realized the extent of that pain or how much she had pushed it away until just now. She regretted so much all of the years she had lost because she and her father were both too stubborn to apologize—her for leaving and him for being too damn stuck in his ways.

Amie wiped her eyes again and pulled herself together. She needed to figure out what this pureblood's connection was to her father and to her and she was pretty sure the answer was in her daddy's journal. If she wanted to get through it, she needed to get past this and get to work.

As she picked the journal back up, she noticed Dean standing in the doorway between the rooms. He was just leaning there watching her, not saying a word. She nodded at him, indicating she was okay. He smiled and mouthed 'I love you' before going back to the other room.

An hour later, Amie sat up on the bed so fast that she nearly spilled the bottle of water she had leaning against her leg. She flipped forward several pages in the journal, skimming her father's notes. Once she realized that this was what she had been looking for, she bolted off of the bed and ran to the other room.

Sam was at the table, his laptop open and a book on his lap. Dean was sitting on the bed, a beer in one hand, the remote in the other. He muted the television as soon as Amie came through the door.

"I've got it," she said, moving across the room to stand by Dean. She held the journal out to him, showing him the page she was reading from. "It's dated June 1999. I was already gone by this time, had been for a while. That's why I don't remember anything about it. Daddy describes a hunt for a werewolf, one that isn't like any he had come across before. He said it could transform and kill at any time, that there didn't have to be a full moon. He said that it seemed like it had more human-like qualities even when transformed. He had been tracking it all across the northwest, but he suspected that it was from this part of Idaho. He came here and tracked it to its home. When he went there, he found what he says was a pack—a group of werewolves living together. He killed them, all of them. Or so he thought. When he got back to his hotel, he says he was attacked, by a werewolf. He shot it, but didn't kill it. It got away. But it had ransacked his room, taking as much stuff as it could find. Apparently, one of those things was a picture. Of my family. Joseph was just a baby then. Daddy notes in his journal that he was worried that it would come after me, for revenge."

Amie stopped and took a deep breath, trying to keep the tears at bay. "The last entry in the journal says that he had a lead on the werewolf and he was going to try to find it before it found me. That was the hunt he was killed on. I never knew what killed him just that he'd been on a hunt when it happened. It had to have been the pureblood. Then it killed my family. And I'm pretty sure it wants to kill me. Full circle, revenge complete."

Amie sat down next to Dean on the bed, finally out of things to say. Dean slipped his arm around her and she leaned against him. They had to find this monster and kill it. Not just for what it had done to Frank and Joseph, but for what it had done to her father. She was going to make sure that it knew whose daughter was ending its life when she put a silver bullet in its heart.


	32. Chapter 32

**Chapter Thirty-Two**

Dean parked the Impala across the street from the second address on the list. He had dropped Sam off at the first address on the way; he was going to check it out and call them if he found anything. The third and final address was a business in downtown Idaho Falls, a small cupcake shop. It didn't seem a likely place for a pureblood werewolf to hide, so they had already eliminated it as a possibility.

Dean leaned over and gave Amie a gentle kiss on her cheek. "Wait here. I'm gonna go walk the property really quick, check out exits and entrances to the house. You stay here and if you see anybody, call me." He got out of the car and hurried across the street. He made a circuit of the house, noting the location of the back entrance and the fact that the house had a basement. He checked a couple of the basement windows. They had been painted black and wouldn't budge when he tried to open them. There didn't appear to be any other way in or out of the house aside from the front and back doors. Dean hurried back to Baby, satisfied that if anybody tried to go in the house, they would see them.

He and Amie settled in to watch the house. They hadn't been able to find out very much about the current listed owners, hence the need to see it in person. At the moment it seemed to be deserted, but Dean wanted to wait it out for a couple of hours before crossing it off the list.

He reached across the seat and took Amie's small, cold hand in his much larger one. She'd been very quiet since reading her father's journal. She'd hardly said a word as she loaded her gun with silver bullets, just watching Dean and Sam as they discussed strategy. Now she was slumped in the passenger seat, her eyes alert and constantly moving.

"You okay?" he finally asked.

Amie looked at him briefly before going back to scanning the street. "I will be when this thing is dead," she replied. "Once I put a bullet in its heart and I can move on, I'll be fine." Her voice was very cold and calculating.

Dean squeezed her hand. He didn't have anything to say to her that would make her feel better. He understood how she felt and what she was going through. All he could do was help her kill the monster that was haunting her.

Dean's phone vibrated in his pocket; it was Sam. "Yeah?" he answered. "Okay. No, we're still here. See you in a few." He hung up and looked at Amie out of the corner of his eye. "That was Sam. That address was a bust. It's a home daycare. Kids and parents coming and going at all hours. Looks like this is our last hope." Amie seemed to slump further in the seat. "He's on his way, caught a ride."

Twenty minutes later Sam pulled open the back door of the Impala and slid in. "Hey. Anything yet?" he asked.

Dean looked at him in the rearview mirror, shaking his head. Sam sighed and leaned back against the seat.

A couple hours later, he was thinking about calling it a night when Amie suddenly sat up straighter. "What is it?" he said, eyes searching.

"I thought I saw a light, in the house, moving across the windows. Toward the back." Amie put her hand on the door handle. "Let's go."

Dean put his hand on her arm. "Wait a minute, will you? We're not rushing in there." When she tried to pull away, he dragged her toward him, getting very close in the small confines of the car. "Dammit Amie, if you really want this thing dead, than we need to do this the right way. You are not just running in there, do you understand me?" He sat staring into Amie's very blue eyes, waiting. He could wait all night. They weren't going anywhere until she agreed with him. Finally, she nodded.

Dean immediately went into combat mode. "Sam, go in through the back. Amie and I will go in through the front. Check every room—closets, under furniture, you name it, check it. We'll meet in the middle, go down to the basement together. If it's Gibbons, Amie gets the kill. Period." He looked back at Amie. "When you take the shot, it has to count. Do not miss."

Dean finally opened the door and slid out. Sam pulled his gun and went through a side yard to the back of the house, Dean moved toward the front of the house, staying in the shadows, Amie close behind. When they got to the front door, Dean gestured to her. She automatically pulled her flashlight and pointed it at the door while Dean picked the lock. He pushed it open, stepping through, gun raised.

They were in a small living room, sparsely furnished. Dean glanced around quickly, then moved toward an arched door that led into what appeared to be a dining room. He swept the room, side to side, while Amie checked under the table and behind a large buffet in the corner. Dean pointed down a hallway that led to the back of the house. He took his flashlight out of his jacket pocket, clicking it on. Just then, Sam came out of the kitchen, gun raised. When he saw Dean and Amie, he shook his head. The three of them started down the hallway, Dean first, then Amie and Sam.

The first two rooms in the hallway were unfurnished bedrooms. Sam checked the rooms and their closets, but there was nothing. Dean checked a bathroom and a linen closet, but again, nothing. Dean was starting to think that Amie had been imagining things.

The last room in the hall was just ahead. Amie had reached it before either of the boys. Dean quickly moved to stand next to her and nodded at her to open the door, his gun pointing directly at it. She took the handle and turned it slowly, pushing it open. It looked like it led to the basement. Amie reached in, trying to find a light switch on the wall. Dean looked over his shoulder, gesturing for Sam to hurry up. When he turned back around, Amie was gone.

Dean heard, rather than saw, Amie hit the stairs several times. He heard what sounded like rustling sounds and a muffled shout. He couldn't see shit, his flashlight wouldn't penetrate the darkness. "Dammit!" he swore.

"Sam!" he yelled as he hurried down into the basement. Sam followed close behind. Amie wasn't at the bottom of the stairs, but Dean saw blood, footprints and drag marks on the dusty floor. He knelt down and touched his fingertip to the blood; it was fresh. He could still see only a few feet in front of him. He would literally be walking into this blind.

"See if you can find a light switch or something," Dean ordered Sam.

Dean crept forward slowly, swinging his flashlight back and forth, following the drag marks. Amie had to be down here, there was no place else she could have gone. There was no exit from the basement.

"Dean, lights!" Sam yelled from somewhere behind him. Dean squinted as several fluorescents flooded the basement with light.

Dean took in as much as he could when the lights came on. The basement appeared to go the entire length of the house. He was standing in a room with an old washer and dryer in one corner, a rusted sink next to them. A refrigerator clicked on, humming quietly to his left. Behind him, under the stairs were storage shelves, stocked with cans. Sam was walking toward him from the back corner of the room, where Dean could see a large electrical panel.

"The circuit breaker was off," Sam said, stopping next to Dean.

Dean pointed to the floor. The drag marks went through a narrow doorway, into another part of the basement. He looked at Sam, who nodded, ready to follow his brother. Dean stepped through the door into another, larger room.

Gibbons stood against the back wall, Amie in front of him. He was holding her against him, one arm loosely around her waist, a hand wrapped around her throat. His claws were extended, the tips puncturing her neck and shoulder. Blood covered the collar of her jacket.

A low growl came from the werewolf's throat. "Walk away, hunter. I only want the woman. I will let you live if you leave now," he said, his words difficult to understand.

Dean shook his head. "Sorry, pal, not happening. Let her go." He took a step forward.

The werewolf tightened his grip on Amie's throat, the tips of his claws pushing farther into her neck. Dean watched her face. She didn't even flinch. He saw her eyes flick to the ground and back up. He looked down, eyes scanning the floor to see what she had been showing him, before he focused on Amie once more.

"She has to die. Her father killed my family, so I am killing his. Once she is dead, it will be over." Amie's eyes widened at Gibbons words. Dean took another step forward, moving slightly to his left, as the werewolf spoke, Sam on his heels. The toe of his boot bumped against something on the floor. It was Amie's gun.

Dean shook his head. "Like I said, not happening. See, I like her and plan on keeping her around for a while. You can just go to hell." Dean focused on Amie, trying to convey what he needed her to do with just his eyes. "Now, _drop_ her!" he yelled.

Amie suddenly went lax in Gibbons' arms, slipping to the ground. The werewolf scrambled for purchase, claws raking her face, leaving long cuts from her neck to her temple. Dean kicked her gun, propelling it across the floor. Without hesitating, she grabbed it, spun around and fired two shots, both hitting dead center. Gibbons sagged to the floor.

Dean was at her side in a second, his hand going immediately to the cuts on her neck and face. "Hey, baby, nice shot," he smiled, cocking one eyebrow at her.

"Thanks," Amie replied, smiling weakly. "Is it dead?"

Dean looked at Sam, who had gone to check the body. He nodded.

"Yep, you ganked his ass. Nice job." He scooped Amie up. "Let's get you to a hospital, get you stitched up."

Sam led the way, Dean carrying Amie. As they passed the linen closet in the hallway, Sam grabbed a couple of towels and tossed them over his shoulder. They landed on Amie's stomach, but she didn't move.

"Amie, honey, pick that up and put it against your neck," he instructed. She did as she was told, but her eyes were glazing over and Dean realized she was losing consciousness.

Once they reached the car, he put Amie in the passenger seat and slid in after her, pushing her to the middle. Sam got in the driver's side, wordlessly taking the keys from his brother. Amie slumped against him. He didn't like how pale her face was or how much blood she was losing. He took the towel from her and pressed it against her neck.

"Hurry up," he mouthed to his brother.

As they drove to the hospital, Dean replayed what had just happened over in his head. It could have ended so much worse. Thank God she was a good hunter. That was what had saved her life. The only other hunter who could read his body language and understand his subtle hints like she had just done was Sam.

Dean slipped his other hand into Amie's hair, pulling her head against his chin. He kissed her temple, hoping she really was alright. Once she was stitched up and a doctor said she was good, he would feel a lot better. Then and only then would he stop worrying.


	33. Chapter 33

**Chapter Thirty-Three**

Amie grimaced as she peeled the bandage from her neck. Dean kept telling her it wasn't that bad and that she probably wouldn't even have a scar, but she wanted to see it for herself. She had three cuts going from where her shoulder met her neck to her jawline, at which point they stopped and then jumped up to start again an inch below her cheekbone and finished at her temple. The ones that went from her cheek to her temple were more like deep scratches. It was the cuts to her neck that had required stitches. One was less than a millimeter to the left of her jugular. The emergency room doctor had told her that if it _had_ hit her jugular, she would have bled out before the boys got her to the hospital. Dean had paled noticeably when he heard that.

She tossed the bandage in the trash and turned on the shower. She yanked off her blood-stained clothes. Her jacket and shirt were probably ruined, but everything else was salvageable. Once the water was steaming hot, she stepped into the shower, flinching as it hit her sensitive skin. She put her head back, her eyes closed, letting the hot water rinse the blood from her hair. Amie heard the door open, though she couldn't see anything through the tacky desert vista decorated shower curtain.

"Dean?" she asked.

There was no reply, but seconds later he pulled back the shower curtain and stepped in. Amie's eyes slid down his body; the broad shoulders, the biceps she always admired when they strained against his t-shirts, the pectoral muscles followed by the abdominal muscles kept taut and firm by the hundreds of core exercises he did each day. Dean's unbelievable green eyes flashed when he caught her admiring him, a grin on his face.

He didn't say anything, just picked up the bottle of shampoo and poured some into his hand. Then he put his arm around her waist and turned them around, so the spray from the shower was hitting his back. He rubbed his hands together and then began rubbing the shampoo into her long hair, taking care to wash every inch. They stood like that for several minutes, not talking, just looking into each other's eyes as Dean washed her hair. When he was done he turned them back around, pushing Amie's head back so he could rinse the shampoo from her hair. She closed her eyes, enjoying the feel of his strong hands against her head.

Dean kissed her, right where the stitches started. His lips moved slowly up her neck, his tongue tracing the line of stitches until he reached her jaw. He moved up her cheek, again kissing the wounds left by the werewolf's claws, until he reached her temple. He ducked down, finally capturing her lips in his, demanding her attention. He reached behind her and seconds later, his hands were covering her body, sliding everywhere from the soap he was using. Amie's heart was racing, her stomach muscles clenching in anticipation. She pressed against Dean and took the soap from him, following his example. Dean's kisses became more persistent, more demanding. She could feel his arousal against her stomach. She reached between them, sliding her soapy hands up and down his erection. Dean pulled her tighter against him, one arm around her waist, the other braced against the wall. He pushed her backward until he was directly under the water, the soap sliding off of both of their bodies.

Amie heard Dean's sharp intake of breath just before she felt the water turn cold. He quickly turned the water off and flung open the shower curtain. He lifted Amie up and set her on the floor. She grabbed a towel from the rack and dried her hair before wrapping it around herself, watching as Dean dried himself off. He stepped out of the shower and picked her up. He covered her mouth with his, his tongue forcing its way into her mouth, searching for more. He carried her into the bedroom, dropping her towel to the floor before lying her on the bed.

Dean laid on his side, one hand behind Amie's neck, the other pressed against the small of her back, his kisses becoming more and more demanding. Amie responded, crushing herself against him, wanting to feel every inch of him touching her. She brought one leg up, flinging it over Dean's hip. Her hands slid down his chest and stomach and past his hips until she reached his erection. Her fingers lightly traced the tip, then she ran her hand carefully up and down the shaft, before gripping him tightly at the base and pulling gently.

Dean moved his hand across her back and over her hip, until he was cupping her sex, the palm of his hand pressing against her, two fingers gently entering her. Amie pushed her hips into his hand, rocking against him. His lips were like fire racing across her jaw and down her neck, his hand and fingers moving constantly, circling until they hit the perfect spot. She could feel the orgasm building, but instead of letting it happen, she pushed Dean onto his back, straddling him. She lowered herself slowly onto him until she had taken every inch of him inside her. With a sigh, she began moving carefully up and down his shaft. Dean grabbed her hips as his own hips strained against her, encouraging her to move. She took her time, riding him carefully, savoring every second, while his hands at her waist were silently guiding her.

Amie leaned over Dean, her breasts brushing against his chest as her lips moved across his collarbone, up his neck and to his mouth. Dean gripped her waist, urging her to move faster, his hips slamming into hers, harder and harder. She rode him harder and faster, encouraged by his movements, her hands clutching his shoulders, every perfect inch of him moving inside her, filling her. Dean put his hand between them, finding her clit, sending uncontrollable shivers through her as he stimulated it over and over. This time Amie let the orgasm come, wave after wave, her muscles clenching around Dean as she moved faster and faster until he joined her, his climax causing every muscle in his body to tighten just before his release.

* * *

Amie thought Dean was asleep. He was stretched across the bed, his head on her stomach and one arm around her. They had been lying there for quite a while, not talking. She was absentmindedly running her fingers through his hair, listening to him breath, close to sleep herself.

"Can I ask you a question?" he suddenly asked.

"Mm, sure," she replied.

Dean was quiet for a minute before he finally asked, "How would you feel about meeting Cas?"

Amie put her head up to look at him, but he was still lying on her stomach, his fingers tracing circles on her arm. She hesitated for just a moment before answering. "I'd _feel_ just fine about it. He's important to you, right?" she inquired.

Dean nodded against her stomach. "I guess he's my best friend. Or the closest I've ever had to one."

"Well, then I should meet him. Whenever you want me to." Though she did feel slightly nervous at the prospect of meeting a former angel, especially one that every fallen angel on Earth was apparently after.

Dean put his head up and rested his chin on her stomach. "Great. We'll go tomorrow," he said, one of his "I'm adorable" grins on his face. "Cas is in Rexburg, about thirty minutes from here. I think you'll like him. I'm just warning you though, Cas is different. He's…unconventional. Awkward. Not always good with people. He can take a little getting used to." Dean kissed her hip and laid his head back down on her stomach.

Amie went back to running her fingers through his hair. Tomorrow was going to be interesting, that was for sure.

* * *

Dean parked the Impala at the side of the Rexburg Gas-n-Sip. He looked at Amie over the backseat. "Ready?" he asked.

"Sure," she smiled, trying to reassure him. He had seemed a bit nervous all morning. He kept telling her little things about Castiel, like his weird habits or oddities. He made sure to tell her that she shouldn't react if he did this thing that was weird or if he did that thing that seemed strange.

Dean got out of the car and opened the back door for Amie. She stepped out and immediately kissed him, putting her hand on his arm that was resting on the top of the door. "Would you relax already? It's me, I can handle this."

"I know you can, it's Cas I'm worried about," he replied, taking her hand as he closed the door. "Let's go see if he's here."

Dean kept a hold of her hand, his hand completely engulfing hers. They followed Sam into the convenience store, Dean pulling her along behind him. There was a considerably long line at the counter. She tried to see around Sam and Dean, who were standing in front of her, to the person working the register. All she caught was an occasional glimpse of dark hair and a blue vest. Dean pulled her over to stand in the line, while Sam wandered toward the candy aisle.

The line moved forward, inch by inch. After a couple of people in front of them had moved, Amie was finally able to get a good look at the man helping the patrons. His name tag said 'Steve.' He was tall, but definitely not as tall as Dean or Sam, with dark hair and striking blue eyes.

"That's Cas," Dean whispered in her ear.

Almost as if he had heard him, Castiel looked up, directly at Dean. He seemed to hesitate, the friendly smile slipping from his face. His eyes darted to Amie and then to her and Dean's intertwined fingers. A confused look crossed his face. He finished helping the customer he was with, then said something to another person in a blue vest a few feet from him before stepping out from behind the counter.

Dean moved out of the line, pulling Amie with him. "Hey, Cas," he said.

"Dean," Castiel said. His voice was much deeper than Amie expected. "How are you?"

"I'm good, really good," Dean replied. He tugged Amie forward, a smile on his face. "I wanted you to meet someone. This is Amie, she's my…well…for lack of a better word she's my girlfriend."

"Girlfriend?" Castiel tipped his head to one side.

Dean smiled, though he looked slightly irritated. "Yeah, Cas, my girlfriend. You know, the woman I…."

"I know what a girlfriend is Dean, I just never expected you to have one. It doesn't seem to be your style," Castiel explained. "You have always had a difficult time expressing caring emotions, such as love, so it just seems odd that you would suddenly have those feelings for someone that is not your brother."

Dean's eyebrows furrowed as he frowned. Amie could tell his patience was wearing thin. "Look, Cas…," he grumbled.

Amie squeezed Dean's hand and plastered a smile on her face. Interesting, just like she thought it would be.

"It's nice to finally meet you, Castiel. Sam and Dean talk about you all the time," Amie said quickly, taking a step forward and putting out her right hand. She was hoping to dispel any problems. "I know this is unexpected, us showing up like this, but Dean wanted to see you, wanted us to meet. We were nearby, hunting." When Castiel didn't shake her hand, she looked between him and Dean, unsure how to proceed. The irritation between them was evident in their body language. She wasn't exactly sure what was going on, but she suspected it had nothing to do with her. "You know what, I'm going to grab a cup of coffee," Amie pointed over her shoulder to the back of the store, "and let you two talk for a minute."

As Amie turned to go, Dean tightened his grip on her hand and pulled her back to him. He kissed her quickly right next to her ear, whispering 'Sorry' under his breath. She nodded, briefly touching her hand to his face, before kissing his cheek. Then she smiled at Castiel and walked toward the back of the store. She poked Sam in the arm as she passed him and gestured back to his brother. "You might want to go referee, Sam," she told him.

Sam looked over at Dean and Castiel. "Well, shit," he muttered, setting down the candy bar he had in his hand. He quickly walked to the front of the store.

Amie continued to the back of the store where she had seen the coffee. She took her time filling her cup and adding her cream and sugar. She watched the boys at the front of the store, their conversation quite animated. As people left the store, she saw them glance curiously at the Winchesters and Castiel. She understood why; it was hard _not_ to look at the three extremely attractive men talking so seriously in the corner. The store cleared out after a couple of minutes, the momentary rush apparently over. The other associate behind the counter said something to Castiel, then disappeared through a door labeled "Employees Only."

She finished making her coffee, then went to grab a lid to put on the cup. It slipped out of her hand and hit the floor. As Amie bent to pick it up she heard the distinct sound of fluttering wings. She stood up quickly, making her head spin. She grabbed the countertop for support. Katarina stood in front of her.

"Katarina! What are doing here?" she inquired.

"I have been watching you. I knew if I kept a close eye on your movements, that eventually you would lead me to Castiel. I am quite anxious to talk to him. I just wanted to remind you that I promised not to hurt him. Please remind the Winchesters of that." Katarina said, very politely. And then she disappeared.

"Shit!" she shouted, dropping her coffee and heading toward the boys. "Dean!"

Dean looked up, startled. When he saw Amie running toward him, he took a step in her direction.

"No, not me! Cas!" she yelled, gesturing at the former angel.

Just then, Katarina appeared next to Castiel, her hand going immediately to his head. Both Sam and Dean tried to grab him, but they were too late. Castiel and the angel were gone.


	34. Chapter 34

**Chapter Thirty-Four**

"Son of a bitch!" Dean roared. He swung around and looked at Amie. "What the hell was that?" He knew he was yelling at her, but at the moment, he didn't care. He was too concerned with what had just happened to Cas.

"She showed up back there next to me. Said she'd been watching me because she knew I'd eventually lead her to Castiel. She told me to remind you guys that she promised not to hurt him. Then she poofed her ass up here and took him." Amie explained as she ran a hand across her face. "I'm sorry. She found him because of me. I shouldn't have come with you to see him. I didn't even think about it. And now he's gone. This is all my fault."

"It's not your fault," Sam told her.

Dean interrupted them. "Enough. Discuss it later, not now." He needed to take charge of this or these two would stand here talking about their feelings all day. They needed to get the situation under control and fast. "We need to figure out where Cas is, or try to anyway. And people are going to start asking questions." He looked at Amie. "Do you have your FBI badge?"

"I think so," she answered, checking her pockets. The badge was inside her jacket. "Why?"

"Sam and I are going out to the car. You talk to the other employee, tell him Cas is a material witness in some case and he had to go with us. Be at the car in less than 5 minutes or I'm coming back in here after you. With my gun drawn. Got it?" Dean waited for Amie to nod at him before opening the door and going out, Sam close behind.

"Dean?" Sam hurried to keep pace with him.

"Great, here it comes. What, Sam?" he asked, rolling his eyes.

Sam grabbed Dean's arm, forcing him to stop. His irritation with his older brother was clear on his face. Dean could always tell when Sam was pissed at him, his little brother was like an open book when it came to being angry with him.

"You don't think this is Amie's fault, do you?" Sam asked.

"What? No!" Dean replied. He started to walk again, hurrying toward the Impala. He did not want to talk about this.

"Dammit, Dean, wait!" Sam yelled at him.

Dean stopped, the keys to the car in his hand. He leaned on Baby's roof, his head in his hands. Sam came up next to him, mirroring his position against the car. Dean looked at his brother, trying to decide if he should talk to him or not. The need to explain himself was overwhelming.

"Okay, ever since she came along, I've been different. Off my game. Christ, she's always distracted me, ever since we met her. Her looks, her body, shit, everything about her. I've always just been very _aware_ of her, you know. That's why I didn't want to work with her before, I felt like I couldn't concentrate when she was around, because I was too busy watching her, always a little worried about her. And it just kept getting harder and harder." Dean took a deep breath and looked at Sam out of the corner of his eye. Sam wasn't looking at him, just listening. "And now, since I told her I lo…since I admitted how I feel about her, it's worse. I am constantly worrying about her, more than I ever did before. So now I'm trying to watch out for you and watch out for her, my emotions are all over the goddamn place, and I'm more distracted than I think I've ever been. I'm know I'm not thinking straight. Like this," Dean gestured behind him, "this is because I couldn't see past the end of my dick to realize that bringing Amie here would also bring Katarina and cause all kinds of trouble for Cas. So yeah, I guess in a way, I do think this is her fault."

Dean stopped talking, his hand nervously running over his hair. He checked his watch. Amie's time was up, she better be on her way out. He turned around to find her standing behind them.

She was looking at him, a strange expression on her face. She stood there for a second before speaking. "Um, I talked to the other guy. His name's Phil. Told him Castiel was with us and we didn't know how long it would be, but we'd bring him back as soon as we could," she quickly explained.

Dean noticed she was wringing her hands, a sure sign that she was nervous or upset. How much of what he'd just said to Sam had she heard? Shit, this day just kept getting better and better. He took a step toward her, but she put her head down and walked past him around the car to the other side. She pulled open the door and slid in the back, grabbing her sunglasses off of her backpack and putting them on as she did.

Sam looked at Dean, a pained expression on his face. He went around the car to the passenger side and pulled open the door. Dean got in as well and looked at Amie over the back of the seat. He couldn't see her eyes behind her sunglasses. She wouldn't look at him, instead staring out the window, her chin resting on her hand.

He turned around. He'd have to talk to her about it later. They needed to figure out what to do about Cas before they worried about anything else. Dean put the car in gear and backed out. He caught a glimpse of Amie in the rearview mirror. He was pretty sure he saw a tear run down her face.

* * *

Sam managed to find them a motel on the outskirts of Rexburg, but they only had one room available. Dean wasn't too happy about that, it wouldn't give him a chance to be alone with Amie. He knew he needed to try to talk to her, he just didn't know what he was going to say.

Once they were settled, Dean immediately started giving orders. "Sam, get on your laptop, see if you can find any signs of angels in the area—mysterious deaths, eyes burned out, stuff like that. Amie, you get to check out the Reverend Buddy Boyle, find out everything you can, especially if it pertains to this area," he instructed them. "I'm going to call Kevin, see if there's anything on the tablet that can help us."

Dean pulled his cell phone from his pocket and threw himself down on the bed next to Amie. She sat quietly next to him, all of her attention on her laptop, but after just a few minutes she got up and moved to the table across from Sam. Dean watched her while he talked to Kevin, but she still wouldn't look at him. She and Sam talked back and forth, Amie occasionally turning her laptop to show Sam something or to ask him a question.

Just as he was wrapping up his phone call with Kevin, Amie stood up and said something to Sam. She grabbed her jacket and headed to the door. Just before she walked out, she reached down and checked the gun in her boot. Dean stood up to follow her, his hand on his own jacket. He was only a few steps from the door when Sam's voice stopped him.

"Let her go, Dean," he said, his voice low.

Dean stopped, his shoulders tensing. "Where's she going?"

"She said she was going for a walk, that she needed some air. Asked me not to let you follow her," he replied, not looking up from the work he was doing. "I agreed."

"What if I don't listen? What if I follow her anyway?" Dean asked, his anger growing.

Sam finally looked up from what he was doing. "Seriously, Dean, just let her go. She's hurt and angry and she feels responsible for what happened to Cas. She needs a minute. Or ten or fifteen. She'll be back." He stopped, waiting to see what Dean would do.

Dean threw his jacket on the end of the bed. He'd let her go for now, but if she wasn't back in an hour he would go after her. He looked at his brother, a question on his lips. "Did she hear what I said, back at the store?" he finally asked.

Sam looked at him and reluctantly nodded. "I think so, at least some of it. She didn't say for sure. But you have to assume she probably did. Look, why don't you come help me go over this stuff, so we can see if we can find anything. If she's not back in an hour, I'll help you look for her."

Dean couldn't help but smile, it was like Sam always knew exactly what he was thinking. He crossed to the table and sat in the chair Amie had just vacated. He pulled her laptop over, it was still open to the Reverend Buddy Boyle's web page. He would see what he could find while he waited for her to come back.

Dean kept a close eye on his watch, but it ended up being unnecessary. Amie came through the motel door after being gone about thirty-five minutes. She was carrying a shopping bag and a 6-pack of beer. She put everything on the table and took off her jacket. She grabbed a bottle of beer and dug through the shopping bag until she found a box of Advil. She took it and her beer and went into the bathroom, not saying a word to either him or Sam.

Dean's phone rang, Led Zeppelin's Ramble On echoing around the room. He picked it up, anxious to talk to the prophet on the other end. "Kev, what do you got for me?" He spent several minutes on the phone, jotting notes on a napkin.

By the time he hung up, Amie had come out of the bathroom. She'd put a clean bandage on her neck and pulled her hair into a ponytail that hung halfway down her back. The marks on her face from the werewolf stood out starkly against her pale skin. She sat at the end of the bed and kicked off her boots.

"Okay, Kevin said there seems to be something on the tablet that might explain why Katarina wants Cas," Dean explained. "It's a spell and it says something about needing to find and help an angel get his grace back. Which would be Cas, an angel without his grace. So maybe, Katarina knows what this spell is and that's why she wants him. Hopefully that means she's not going to hurt him."

"Alright, so we know why she wants Cas, but that doesn't help us find him," Sam said. "What's next?"

Dean shrugged his shoulders. "We wait. See if Cas shows up or gets in touch with us. I don't know if there's anything else we can do."

Sam nodded. "Okay, I guess we wait." He pulled his laptop over and starting typing.

Dean looked at Amie; she hadn't said a word since she got back. He was worried about her, she looked tired and in pain. She was pale with dark circles under eyes. With everything that had happened in the last few hours, he'd forgotten that she was still recovering from some very serious wounds. He crossed the room to sit next to her on the bed. He put his hand on her back, rubbing small circles between her shoulder blades.

Amie pulled away from him and crawled up the bed until she was stretched out, her head on the pillow. She pulled the blankets over herself and closed her eyes. Dean watched her, regret coursing through him. He was positive she had heard what he said and he knew he had hurt her. Again. He was so bad at this relationship shit. He wasn't sure he would ever figure it out.

He decided it was probably best to leave her alone for now. He sat next to her, but he didn't touch her. He picked up the television remote, hoping he could distract himself. It didn't really work though; he couldn't think about anything other than how he was going to fix things this time.

* * *

The pounding was insistent, getting louder and louder. At first, Dean thought it was the television. Without opening his eyes, he picked up the remote and turned it off. But the pounding continued. He forced himself awake, his hand sliding under his pillow to grab his gun. He sat up, noticing that both Sam and Amie were also awake, both armed—Sam with Ruby's knife and Amie with an angel blade.

Dean moved quietly across the room. He pulled back the curtains on the window by the door, trying to see who was outside. When he saw who it was, he tucked his gun in the waistband of his pants.

"It's Cas," he said over his shoulder as he threw open the door. "Jesus Christ, Cas, are you okay?" Dean looked him over, checking his friend for any injuries.

"I'm fine," he replied. "May I come in?" Cas was noticeably shivering.

Dean stepped back from the door, feeling like an idiot. It was freezing outside and Cas didn't have a jacket. "Shit, yeah, sorry," he apologized.

Cas stepped into the room, looking around. He was rubbing his arms, trying to warm up. Dean was going to throw him a jacket when Amie walked past him with the bedspread from their bed and put it around Cas's shoulders. He smiled gratefully at her. Amie returned the smile and sat back down on the bed.

"So what happened?" Dean asked. "How'd you get away?"

"I didn't 'get away' Dean, Katarina let me go," Castiel explained. "_She_ wants to help me." He sat in one of the chairs at the table, his hands fiddling with the empty bottles and candy wrappers piled there, refusing to meet Dean's eyes.

Dean heard the subtle accusation in Cas's voice, but he decided to ignore it. He couldn't change what had already happened and he wasn't about to try. He straightened his shoulders. "What does that mean? How is she going to help you?"

"If we can get my grace back from Metatron, Katarina knows of a spell that might re-open the gates of Heaven," Cas explained. "She's never actually seen it, just heard rumors of it, a lot of conjecture. But, she thinks it's on the angel tablet. The angel tablet you have in your bunker."

Dean looked at Sam over the top of Cas's head. He knew what Sam was thinking, because he was thinking the same thing. Sam shook his head slightly, his face serious.

"No," Dean said, a bit too forcefully. "She can't have the tablet. And she's not getting in the bunker. Period." Dean looked pointedly at Amie. "I don't trust her. Not after what she's done. The things she's done." He would never trust the angel, not after what she did to Amie.

Castiel looked at Amie. "Katarina told me what she did to you." He turned to Dean. "And she knew this would be your reaction. Hence the reason she's not here with me." Cas sat forward, his arms resting on his legs. "But maybe I can go to the bunker, look at the tablet. Maybe I can find the spell, figure it out."

Dean sighed. "Kevin's already found the spell. He's working on it."

Castiel looked shocked. "You knew about this and you didn't tell me?"

Dean couldn't believe Cas would think that he wouldn't tell him something that important. "No! He just found it. While you were missing, apparently off having your little world peace conference with the angel, we had Kevin going over the tablet, looking for anything that would help us find you. That's when he found it. He hasn't gotten much off of it, pretty much the same stuff you just said."

The wheels were turning in Dean's head. Maybe bringing Cas back to the bunker was a good idea. There was no reason he couldn't be there anymore and he might be helpful. Kevin could certainly use a little bit of help. Not only that, but he would be a lot safer at the bunker, where Dean could protect him. "Sammy, can I talk to you for a minute?" He stood up and moved to the door, slipping his jacket on.

"Yeah," Sam replied. He grabbed his jacket and followed his brother outside.

Dean heard Cas saying something to Amie as he pulled the door closed but he didn't catch what it was. He turned to Sam, anxious to get his opinion.

He and Sam stood outside talking for several minutes. Sam seemed okay with Cas going back to the bunker with them, as long as they kept the bunker properly warded.

Dean was about go back in the motel room, when Sam stopped him. "How long are we going to let him stay at the bunker, Dean? A week? A month? Indefinitely?"

Dean shrugged his shoulders and opened the door. "I don't know. I guess as long as necessary."


	35. Chapter 35

**Chapter Thirty-Five**

Amie sat quietly as Dean and Sam put on their jackets and walked out the door. She was extremely uncomfortable sitting across from Castiel, alone. Especially since she was the reason the angel had found him.

"I am not angry that Katarina took me," Castiel said to her as Dean pulled the door closed. Amie wondered briefly if he could read her mind, despite no longer being an angel.

"Really?" Amie was surprised. "I thought you'd be."

Castiel smiled gently at her. "No. Not if she can help me to get my grace back. And you had no way of knowing she would take me. It wasn't your fault."

Amie grimaced, her heart literally aching. "Dean thinks it is," she whispered, her voice breaking.

"Is he angry with you?" Castiel asked.

She couldn't bring herself to speak, so she merely nodded. She felt a tear slide down her cheek. She quickly wiped it away. Oh, he was angry alright.

Castiel looked toward the door, apparently lost in thought. He was quiet for a moment, before turning toward her, a curious look on his face. "Do you love him?"

Amie was slightly taken aback. Castiel was very forward, it took some getting used to. She nodded again. "Yeah, I do," she answered, staring at her hands, her fingers twisting in her lap, unsure how much to tell the former angel. She decided there was no point in lying to him. "I've loved him for a long time. Probably longer than even I realize."

"And does he love you?" he asked.

Amie laughed, almost bitterly. "I think so. He told me he does. But he's Dean, it's hard for him, you know? He's not good at sharing, or apologizing or any of that 'chick-flick-shit' as he calls it."

Castiel was nodding. "If he told you he does, than you need to believe him. Dean does not speak lightly about these things. Like you said, it's hard for him. He doesn't…well he doesn't know how to love anyone besides his brother. It is difficult for him to express himself properly."

Just then, the door opened, Dean and Sam coming back in. Dean was rubbing his hands together and blowing on them. He looked between Castiel and Amie, a curious look on his face when he realized he had interrupted them.

"Okay Cas, looks like you're gonna be our new roomie," Dean said. "But that angel-bitch, she can't even know what state the bunker is in. You need to talk to her, it's got to be far enough away that she won't figure it out."

Castiel was nodding his agreement. "I need to go speak to her. I told her I would let her know your decision. She is not far from here. I will be back soon." He started toward the door, obviously anxious to leave.

Amie figured Dean would volunteer to take Castiel wherever he needed to go, so she was surprised when Sam grabbed the car keys off of the cheap dresser.

"Hold up, Cas, I'll take you to talk to her," Sam offered. "No need to freeze to death." He tossed Castiel a sweatshirt from his bag as they went out the door.

Once Sam and Castiel were gone, Amie laid down on the bed. Her neck was killing her and the Advil she had taken wasn't helping. Even the beer she'd had didn't numb the pain. She put an arm over her eyes, blocking out the light from the bedside lamp. She could hear Dean moving around the room. She moved her arm so she could see him. He was pacing like a caged animal, fidgety, occasionally glancing at her.

"Dean?" she said, grimacing as she pulled herself to a sitting position. She was surprised her voice was as calm as it was. He stopped and looked at her, his expression unreadable. "Come here," she said, patting the bed next her.

Dean was across the room in two strides, climbing into the bed next to her. Amie cuddled up against his side, her head tucked under his chin. He put his arm around her, then planted a kiss on the top of her head. She felt him relax, the tension in his muscles melting away. They sat in comfortable silence for several minutes.

"I'm sorry," Dean finally said. "About earlier, what I said. I'm not angry with you and I don't blame you for what happened. I was just upset and worried about Cas."

She took a deep breath, intent on asking the question that had been on her mind all day. "Am I really that much of a distraction? Do I make it harder for you? Hunting, I mean." Amie asked. She was almost afraid to hear his answer.

Dean was quiet for a minute before answering. "Honestly, you do distract me. But it's because I constantly worry about you. It's not harder necessarily, I just have to remember to focus and think before I act." He kissed her head again, hugging her tighter. "If anything happens to you…."

Amie stopped his words with a kiss. "I know," she whispered.

"And you know I love you, right?" he said, his beautiful green eyes imploring her to say yes. He ran his thumb back and forth across her cheekbone, his touch gentle. "Right?" he insisted.

Amie nodded, kissing him again. She did know it. She snuggled up against him again, her head on his chest, his heart beating against her cheek.

* * *

Amie sat on a stool in the corner of the garage, flipping through the old magazine she'd found and sipping a beer. Dean was under the hood of the Impala, fiddling with something. Every now and then he'd ask her to hand him a tool from the box on the floor by her feet.

"Hey, give me that socket wrench, would you?" Dean asked, gesturing to the tool he needed.

Amie jumped off the stool and dug the tool out of the box. When she handed it to him, he took her beer as well.

Dean leaned against the fender of the car as he took a drink from the cold bottle. "You know, this is the first time we've been alone in the two days since we got back. It's getting awfully crowded around here." He raised one eyebrow at her, a smirk on his face. "Makes it hard for me to work on that list of things I'd like to do to you while you're naked." He deliberately made his voice deeper than normal as his eyes looked her up and down, his tongue sneaking out to lick his lips.

Amie leaned against him, resting one hand on his neck and the other grabbing the waistband of his jeans to pull him closer. She stood on her tiptoes so she could whisper in his ear. "I have a few things I'd like to add to that list," she murmured, rubbing herself against him.

Dean groaned, his hand clamping down on her waist. "Behave yourself," he said, his voice thick with desire. He leaned down to kiss her, but she skipped back out of his reach.

"Hmm, but that's no fun," Amie giggled. She turned and walked the length of car, trailing her hand along the roof, purposefully putting an extra wiggle in her step.

Dean suddenly grabbed her from behind, pushing her against the car. "So you think you're funny, huh?" he growled playfully. He grabbed her chin, pulling her head back against his shoulder as his tongue slid up her neck, before catching her mouth in a rough kiss. He quickly undid the button and zipper on her jeans, his hand pushing past her underwear and cupping her, one finger sliding inside, his thumb pressing and rubbing her clit.

Amie moaned into his mouth, her hips bucking against his hand, her hands scrambling for purchase on the Impala's trunk. Dean pushed his own hips against her, grinding, his breath coming faster. His mouth moved to her shoulder, biting and sucking. His other hand slid under her shirt until he found her breast. He roughly pushed her bra out of the way, his fingers seeking out the nipple, pulling and twisting until Amie was practically purring with desire. He slid another finger into her hot wet center as his hips continued grinding against her. Amie moaned louder as she felt the tension building, her knees weakening until she almost collapsed. Dean held her up, thrusting his fingers into her over and over, his thumb continuing its incessant flicking and rubbing.

"Mmmm, come on baby," Dean murmured in her ear, his voice alone pushing her closer to climax.

"Oh, God, yes," Amie gasped as the orgasm built in her, the pleasure nearly unbearable.

"Dean? Are you guys in here?" Amie heard Castiel before she saw him, his voice dragging her back to reality.

"What the fuck?" Dean swore. He rested his forehead on her shoulder. "You have got to be kidding me."

Amie heard Castiel call Dean's name again. She reluctantly pushed Dean's hand away, the moment over. She could hear his sigh of frustration, or more likely anger, as she quickly zipped and buttoned her pants. She started to move away from him, but he grabbed her, turning her to face him.

He kissed her, the desire he was still feeling evident in every thrust of his tongue. He put his hands into her back pockets and pulled her tight against him, his erection obvious behind his jeans. "Like I said, it's getting awfully fucking crowded in here," he muttered.

Amie nodded, knowing she was still too out of breath and too turned on to speak. She wrapped her arms around Dean, letting him hold her, her forehead against his chest, his chin resting on the top of her head.

"Oh, I'm sorry, I didn't…umm…I can come back," Castiel said when he came around the front of the Impala.

"Too late, Cas," Dean mumbled, kissing her one last time before looking at the former angel. "What's up?"

"Sam wants to talk to the two of you about Reverend Boyle. He asked me to come find you." Castiel looked expectedly at her and Dean.

Amie stepped away from Dean, running a hand through her hair. "Yeah, I just need a few minutes." She hurried toward the stairs. She needed some time to collect herself and calm down.

They'd been back at the bunker for less than two days and she was already tired of Castiel. He had now interrupted her and Dean on three different occasions. Shortly after they had gotten back to the bunker, they had tried to sneak off to Dean's room to be alone, but just minutes later, Castiel has shown up, banging on the door, full of questions. Later that day, they had been alone in one of the storage rooms, on the pretense of looking for something on the crowded shelves. Instead, Dean had pulled her into a corner and they had started a rather hot and heavy make-out session. Castiel had chosen that moment to show up with a stack of papers, the angel tablet and Kevin to discuss what the prophet had discovered thus far. And now this. If she didn't know better, she'd think he was doing it on purpose.

Once she reached her room, she pushed the door closed and began unbuttoning her jeans as she crossed to the bathroom. She pushed them off and let them fall to the bathroom floor. She yanked her shirt off as well, then pulled her hair up. She turned on the shower, stepping under the cool water. She couldn't stop thinking about what had just happened in the garage between her and Dean. They needed some time alone and soon.

* * *

Amie met Dean outside the entrance to the library. She'd changed into a pair of yoga pants and a t-shirt, her hair falling loose around her shoulders. She smiled when she saw him.

"There you are," Dean said as he stepped away from the wall where he had been leaning. He put an arm around her waist, pulling her close and kissing her. "You look gorgeous," he said. He pushed her away slightly so he could look at her face. "You okay?"

"Mm, just frustrated," she replied. "Your best friend is kind of getting on my nerves." She pulled him back, her lips greedily seeking out his, desperate to feel him close to her. She was starting to feel like an addict who couldn't get a fix. Every time he looked at her, she felt like she was on fire.

"Oh trust me, I know," he grumbled. He grabbed her head, fingers twisting in her hair, forcing her mouth open with his tongue, equally as hungry for her as she was for him.

"Dean! Did you find her?" Sam called from the library.

Dean broke the kiss, swearing as he did. He took her hand and pulled her into the room. Sam was sitting at the table, his laptop in front of him as usual. Kevin and Castiel were at the end of the table; Castiel was eating a burrito. He waved at Amie, a slight smile on his face.

She waved back, then sat in an empty chair next to Sam, looking over his shoulder. "What's up?"

Sam turned the laptop so Amie could look at it. She studied it for several minutes. "Wait, is this what I think it is? Boyle's going to let people in the inner circle?"

"Well, reporters," Sam replied. "He's picked a handful of them to travel with him for several days, then attend some big fundraiser he's having. Boyle's after more publicity, trying to gain a bigger following. Probably to try to find better vessels."

Dean stood behind her, his hands on her shoulders. "Boyle hasn't met any of them. So, how would you feel about going in? Sam and Kevin think they have a way to replace one of the reporters with you."

"You'll actually let me go in alone?" Amie asked, shocked, turning to look at him.

Dean nodded, but his expression was troubled. "None of us can go. If there are angels anywhere around him, they'll recognize us. But they don't know you."

"Okay," she said, without hesitating. "I'll do it." Dean's hands momentarily tightened on her shoulders. She grabbed one, squeezing it reassuringly. "What do we need to do?" she inquired.


	36. Chapter 36

**Chapter Thirty-Six**

Dean unlocked the room to the motel, flipping on the light switch by the door. He kicked the door shut with his foot and threw his bags on the floor. He dropped the bag from the fast food restaurant on the table. He was more than ready for this day to be over, it had been a long one. He wanted a cold shower and some sleep, though he didn't think the latter would come easily.

Amie was settled at the luxury hotel that the reporters were staying at, the Four Seasons in downtown St. Louis. A meet and greet had been arranged there for the reporters, Boyle and his entourage. Dean had dropped her off an hour ago, but he had hung around for a while, waiting to make sure she was alright and everything went off without a hitch. Kevin had created a new identity for her, including a new driver's license and credit cards. When they had left the bunker, he had been building her an online presence. She'd spent most of the eight hour drive to St. Louis memorizing everything she could about Amber Johnson, reporter for Free Will Christian Life magazine. By the time they reached the hotel, she had completely slipped into the persona, including a slight southern accent.

Dean had parked on a side street near the Four Seasons, then gone around to the passenger side and helped Amie out of the car. He'd immediately pulled her into his arms. "Promise me you will not turn off your phone or let it die. I need to be able to get in touch with you at all times. Promise?" he had practically begged.

Amie had smiled at him. "I promise." She'd put a hand to his face, kissing him gently. "I love you."

He'd returned her kiss, not wanting it to end. When it finally did, he'd rested his forehead on hers. "I love you, too," he'd whispered. "Be careful." Watching her walk away without him had been like torture, especially since he knew it would be at least three days before she was anywhere near him again.

Now he was stuck here in a crappy motel room, doing his least favorite thing—waiting. Sam and Cas wouldn't arrive for several more hours. Amie wasn't due to check in with him until later, after the meet and greet with Reverend Boyle was over. Dean had time to kill. He needed to find something to do or he would sit here and worry about Amie. Or think about all the things he'd been trying to do with her every time Cas had interrupted them back at the bunker. Which was actually the reason he felt like he needed a cold shower.

He pulled his laptop out of his bag. He would check the reporter's agenda posted on Boyle's website so he could try to formulate some kind of plan for keeping an eye on Amie. He wanted to stay as close as possible without alerting any angels to his presence.

He'd been working for more than an hour, his thoughts and ideas scribbled across several sheets of motel stationary, when his phone vibrated across the table. It was a text message from Amie: "Back in my room. Boyle's an ass. Met Bartholomew, he's a bit scary."

Dean sent her a message back: "Can you call me?"

Thirty seconds later, his phone vibrated again. "Hey, baby," he murmured as he answered it. "Scary, huh? Describe him to me."

"Let's see, he's as tall as you, blonde hair, blue eyes, about my age. Handsome. He's just, I don't know, intimidating. He always has this grin on his face, but underneath it you feel like he's figuring out ways to kill you." Amie replied. "He definitely made me nervous."

Dean sat back in his chair, eyes closed, picturing the angel as Amie described him. "Okay, what about Boyle?"

Amie sighed. "Boyle's a jerk. Egotistical, full of himself, has that holier-than-thou attitude that's probably pretty typical of most televangelists. Except when he's around Bartholomew. Then he just seems scared. I get the distinct impression that Bartholomew tells him what to do."

"Do you think Sam's right? Are they hoping that the publicity will get them more choices for vessels?" Dean asked.

"Definitely," she replied. "All of the reporters are from some kind of religious publication, blog or television show and every single one of them was falling over their feet to impress Boyle. He made some speech about how he hoped with our help he could bring more people to the flock, get more people saying yes to the angels. Not saying yes to God mind you, he wants them saying yes to angels. I thought they were all going to wet their pants with excitement. Very religious, righteous people." She laughed. "I felt totally out of place."

Dean smiled at the sound of her laughter. "Hmm, I bet you did," he chuckled. He heard rustling sounds through the phone. "What are you doing?" he asked.

"Changing," Amie said matter-of-factly. "My feet are killing me and I've had enough of this tight skirt. I need to get out of these clothes. You know I'm not much for skirts and dresses. I prefer my jeans." She paused for a second. "Or nothing."

Dean groaned and rubbed a hand over his face. He could picture her in his head, shedding her clothes with the phone tucked between her shoulder and chin. "You're killing me, baby, literally killing me."

Amie dropped her voice to a low, breathy whisper. "Oh, really. Why don't you describe to me how I am doing that?"

"Oh no, I am not going there," Dean laughed. "I'll end up over there knocking down your door at that fancy hotel and showing you."

"Well now, honey, that would be extremely bad for Miss Amber Johnson's reputation," Amie said, her voice slipping into a southern accent. "Y'all know she's a virgin and very chaste. Sex is disgusting."

Dean laughed again, Amie joining him. "Go get some sleep. Call me in the morning." He hung up the phone and tossed it on the table. He decided it was time for that cold shower.

* * *

Dean set his coffee cup down and shoved the papers he'd been writing on across the table. "This is the itinerary for the day. Our best bet is that rally later at the Arch or the fundraiser tonight."

Sam picked up the papers as he continued eating. "I think you're right. It'll be a lot easier for us to stay out of sight at the Arch though. Did Amie say where the reporters are going to be?"

"She said offstage, in a special reserved area next to it. She's going to try to sneak off for a few minutes, try to find us," Dean explained. "And the fundraiser tonight is the last chance to see if we can find anything. That will be harder to get into, it's at Boyle's church."

They had been in St. Louis for three days, watching and waiting for something to turn up. Amie had been with Boyle the entire time. She was positive that he was looking to add followers to expand Bartholomew's vessel choices, but that was all she had discovered. She couldn't find anything about the spell involving Cas or if Bartholomew even knew it existed. Today was the last day the reporters were going to be with the reverend, so they were scrambling to find something.

"Cas, you heard anything from Katarina?" Dean asked. Castiel didn't answer, he was staring out the motel window, a far-off look on his face. "Earth to Cas, did you hear from Katarina yet?"

Castiel turned to look at Dean. "No, nothing. I am getting quite concerned. I have not talked to her in two days."

Celine Dion's My Heart Will Go On started playing from Dean's phone. Sam laughed. "I thought you were going to change that?" he asked his brother, a smug look on his face.

Dean rolled his eyes. "Dammit, I did! Did you change it back again?" Sam laughed again as Dean grabbed his phone and answered it. "Hey baby, what's up?"

He spent several minutes on the phone with Amie, letting her know where they would be during the rally, checking to make sure she was doing okay. He was getting anxious. It had been three days since he had seen her from anything other than a distance, three days since he'd touched her, kissed her, been in the same room as her. This job couldn't end soon enough.

Dean wrapped up the phone call with Amie, thankful that in less than twelve hours she would be back with him. Sam had gone to take a shower while he was talking to her, but Castiel had not moved from his spot by the window.

"You okay, Cas?" he asked, dropping to the bed and swinging his feet up as he leaned against the headboard. "You've been awful quiet."

"I am just concerned that I have not heard from Katarina. Has Amie seen her with Bartholomew?" Castiel asked.

Dean shrugged. "Not that she's said. Yesterday when we talked in the morning, she mentioned that she'd overheard one of Boyle's people say her name, but she still hasn't seen her. If we get a chance to talk to Amie at the rally, we'll ask her if she's seen or heard anything about her. She said they're going to Boyle's church this morning to look around prior to the fundraiser tonight. He wants to show them the TV set-up when there aren't a hundred or more people around. She's going to try to get alone and take a look around. Maybe she'll see or hear something about Katarina while she's there."

Castiel turned from the window. "I am sure she is fine. I am probably worrying for nothing." He crossed the room to stand in front of Dean. "How is Amie doing?"

"She's fine, I guess," Dean answered. "Why do you ask?"

"You seem on edge," Castiel replied. "I thought maybe there was a problem."

"No, there isn't a problem. I just don't like this job. I don't like her alone, possibly in danger, where I can't protect her. She seems to be fine, but I'm not sure she'd tell me if there was a problem. She knows how much I worry about her."

"Is it because you are in love with her?" Castiel asked.

Dean took a deep breath. Always with the straight-forward, pull-no-punches questions. "What do you think, Cas? Do I act like someone in love?" He really didn't feel like discussing his love life with a socially awkward former angel.

Castiel burst out laughing, which was not what Dean had expected. "I don't know, Dean. I'm not sure how someone in love acts. I do know when you are with her, you have to be touching her, even if it's just your hand on her waist or her leg or her arm. You watch every move she makes. If she isn't in the room, you watch the door, waiting for her to come in. When your phone rings and it is her, you get a funny smile on your face and you hurry to answer it. And you worry about her like I've only ever seen you worry about Sam. Is that how someone in love acts?" Cas paused for a minute before continuing. "But why do you love her, Dean? What is it about this one woman that has changed you?"

Dean stood up and moved across the room to the table. It made him uncomfortable that Cas was so observant and had noticed those things about him. And he wasn't about to tell Cas the answer to those questions. He grabbed his car keys and jacket. "I don't know Cas, you figure it out. I'll be in the car. Come downstairs when Sam is ready."

He sat in the car, music up loud, head resting against the seat, eyes closed, waiting for Sam and Cas. He hoped that it would be clear that he was not in the mood to talk. He was really tired of everybody wanting him to discuss his feelings for Amie—first Sam, now Castiel. He didn't understand why it was such a big deal. It would make his life a lot easier if they would all leave him alone. It was bad enough that he had to talk to Amie about his feelings, but he didn't need his brother and best friend bugging him about it, too. Why couldn't people just accept that he felt the way he felt and move the hell on? Dean didn't feel the need to psychoanalyze the only decent thing he had in his life, so why did everyone else?

Dean's thoughts were interrupted by the sound of the Impala's passenger door opening. No one said a word as they got in, thank God. Once they were in the car, Dean made the short drive to the Arch. He wanted them in place before Boyle and his people arrived.

Dean situated himself on a park bench two hundred yards from the small stage. He was trying to figure out the best place to watch the rally when a white passenger van pulled up to the curb. As soon as the doors opened and people started stepping out, he knew it was the reporters travelling with Boyle. He immediately sat up straighter, looking for Amie.

She was one of the last ones to step out of the van. She was followed closely by a tall blonde man. It had to be Bartholomew, he definitely matched the description Amie had given to Dean. The man grabbed Amie's arm, pulling her close to say something. She smiled a small smile, though Dean could tell by her body language that she was very uncomfortable. The look on her face put him on alert, his fists clenched at his side. She pulled away and looked around the park, her eyes taking in everything at once. Dean saw her eyes slide over him, then quickly move back again. Relief washed over her face. He gave her a quick smile before he moved out of sight.

Dean watched Amie cross the park to the stage where Boyle was setting up, Bartholomew still holding her arm. She joined a group of people sitting to the left of the stage. She said something to the man at her elbow, her smile tight. He nodded at her and stepped away. She pulled out her phone and just seconds later, Dean's phone vibrated.

"I need to talk to you. Now." the message from Amie read.

Dean sent her a message back. "There are some bathrooms behind the stage, meet me there in 5 minutes."

"Okay, wait inside for me," she replied.

He moved around the perimeter of the park until he was directly behind the bathrooms. He waited until he couldn't see anyone, then he slipped into the women's restroom. He leaned against the wall to wait for Amie, his heart pounding in anticipation.

As soon as she opened the door, Dean grabbed her hand and pulled her all the way into the bathroom, locking the door behind her. He pressed her against the wall, his hands burying themselves in her hair, his lips finding hers. It had been too long since he had been able to touch her and there was no way he was waiting another second.

"Hey baby," he murmured, hugging her to his chest.

"Hey," she whispered, her hands clutching his jacket. "God, I've missed you."

"Mm, I know exactly how you feel," he said. He ran his hands up and down her arms. When he leaned in to kiss her again, she stopped him with a hand to the chest.

"I only have a minute, Dean," she said. "Bartholomew sent someone with me. He's waiting outside."

Dean took a step back, his face shocked. "What? Why?"

Amie ran a hand through her hair, then looked at her watch. "I don't know why, but he's taken a special interest in me. He pulled me aside during the tour this morning and asked me to stay longer than the other reporters. He said it was to do a more in-depth story on Boyle, but when I asked him if I could think about it and discuss it with my editor, maybe get back to him in a couple of days, he got kind of weird. I tried asking him some questions about what exactly he wanted from me, but he got really evasive and wouldn't give me a straight answer. Ever since, I've had a constant shadow. He won't leave me alone. If he's not attached to me, he's got one of his flunkies following me around."

Anger was working its way through Dean, forcing every other thought out of his head. He closed his eyes, trying to focus. "Well, it'll be over in less than twelve hours. After the fundraiser, we can get you away from him and we won't have to worry about it."

"No, Dean," Amie interrupted him. "You don't understand. I don't think Bartholomew is going to let me leave."


	37. Chapter 37

**Chapter Thirty-Seven**

As if on cue, there was a pounding on the bathroom door. Dean put his hand in his jacket on the butt of his gun and moved in front of Amie, facing the door. She grabbed his arm.

"Do you have an angel blade with you?" she asked.

"No," he replied, shaking his head.

"Then back up," she said, pulling him away from the door. He resisted at first, but she got right in his face. "God damn it Dean, back the fuck up," she whispered, her voice fierce. "I have to go. That's an angel out there waiting for me. It's just you and I, right? I'm not armed and all you have is your gun, which is worthless. We're screwed."

Amie's angel bodyguard pounded on the door again. She took a deep breath. "I'm comin' okay, just another minute!" she yelled. She turned back to Dean, her voice dropping to a whisper. "Please honey, just listen to me. I'll be okay, I promise. Just, I don't know, figure out some way to get into the fundraiser tonight and get me out." She kissed him quickly. "I love you."

Before Dean could say anything, she slipped out the door, letting it close behind her. The angel assigned to follow her was waiting just two steps away.

"Sorry darlin' I was fixin' my hair, this wind is just killin' it," she explained. Amie moved in front of him, hurrying across the park's manicured lawn to her seat with the other reporters. She sat down, picking up her notebook as she did. She watched the bathroom out of the corner of her eye. She saw Dean leave after just a couple of minutes. No one saw him or stopped him.

Amie watched the rally quietly, occasionally jotting useless notes in her notebook. She could feel Bartholomew's eyes on her, making her skin crawl. As soon as it was over, he stepped up next to her and grabbed her elbow. "Allow me to escort you back to the van, Ms. Johnson."

Amie had to resist the urge to yank her arm away. Instead she smiled sweetly up at him, the need to vomit tickling at the back of her throat. "Why thank you, Mr. Bartholomew. That is awful kind of you," she managed to say. Her eyes scanned the park, trying to find Dean, or even Sam or Cas. But the crowd was so thick she couldn't see anyone.

Once they reached the van, Bartholomew opened the door and gestured for her to get in, his hand squeezing her elbow painfully. She stepped in and moved toward the back, with him directly behind her. The other reporters filed in one by one, their conversation animated and loud. She looked out the window and immediately made eye contact with Dean. He was standing less than a hundred yards from the van, staring at it, a look of utter and complete rage on his face. Sam was standing next to him, his hand on his chest as if he was holding him back. And if Amie knew Dean, that's exactly what Sam was doing.

The drive back to the hotel took less than five minutes. Once they exited the van, Bartholomew stuck to her like glue, his hand back on her elbow as she walked. Midway across the lobby she stopped and smiled up at him. "I was thinkin' I might go lie down for a bit before the fundraiser tonight. I feel a bit of a headache comin' on and I don't want to miss the excitement just because I'm not feelin' well," she said, laying on the southern accent.

Bartholomew flashed a grin at her, the one that made her feel like she needed her gun. "Why certainly, Ms. Johnson. Though I had been hoping we could talk about the offer I made you earlier. No worries, we'll discuss it later. We have plenty of time." He released her arm and stepped back. "I'll meet you here at six to escort you to the fundraiser." The tone of his voice left no room for argument.

Amie could only nod weakly. She moved quickly across the lobby, hurrying to get on the elevator. She glanced behind her and saw the same angel from earlier following her. She stepped up her pace and managed to slide into the elevator just before the doors closed, leaving her shadow behind. She pressed the button for the sixth floor, took her phone from her purse and dialed Dean's number.

He answered on the first ring. "You okay?" he asked, his voice strained.

"Yeah," she muttered. "I'm fine." For now anyway, but she wasn't about to say that to Dean.

"Where are you?" he demanded. "We'll come get you."

She shook her head, though she knew Dean couldn't see her. "I'm at the hotel, but you can't come get me. I don't think I can get out. My room is on the sixth floor and Bartholomew has the same angel following me to my room. The only reason I was able to call you is because I got on the elevator ahead of him." The elevator doors opened to her floor. She dug her room key from her purse as she walked, the phone tucked under her chin. She slid the key into the magnetic slot, mentally urging the little light to turn green. She heard the elevator doors open behind her. She stepped inside the room, shoved the door closed and locked it. She leaned against it for a second before turning to look through the peephole. Sure enough, the angel was walking down the hall toward her room. He stopped in front of her door for just a second, then he reclined against the wall, arms crossed in front of him.

"Amie?" Dean said impatiently in her ear.

She moved away from the door before she spoke. "I'm here. I think it's going to have to be at the fundraiser tonight. I can't get out of here without being seen," she whispered. "Bartholomew's not going to let me go that easily."

Amie heard Dean sigh. She could picture him, the frustration and anger on his face, the worry line between his eyebrows prominent, his hand nervously running through his hair. God, she missed him. Shit, she didn't just miss him, she practically ached to be with him again. She choked back the tears before Dean heard them.

"Okay, tonight then. I don't know how, but I will get you out of there." Dean's voice was low and menacing. "I don't care how many goddamn angels I have to kill."

* * *

Amie stepped from the car and straightened her skirt before buttoning her trench coat. She was wearing a gray sleeveless party dress with a flowing skirt and black high-heeled shoes. The skirt was loose enough and long enough that she had been able to strap an angel blade to her thigh. She knew Dean would consider her shoes impractical but over the years she'd learned that a nice, pointy pair of heels could do some serious damage. These were no exception; in the past they had inflicted quite a bit of pain.

Bartholomew came out of the car behind her, took her elbow and guided her down the wide sidewalk to the double doors of Reverend Boyle's church. "Do you mind accompanying me to my office for a moment? I would like to talk to you," he said, his voice leaving no room for argument.

"Certainly," Amie replied. "May I ask what it is you'd like to discuss?

He smiled. "All in good time, my dear," he responded.

Bartholomew led her down a dark hallway, through what appeared to be a large classroom until they reached a set of stairs. She followed him up three flights, the angel bodyguard trailing behind them. Once they reached the third floor, they turned down a wide hallway with several closed doors. Bartholomew pushed her into a spacious office, closing the door behind him, leaving the bodyguard in the hallway.

"May I see your purse, Ms. Johnson?" he asked politely.

"I'm sorry, what?" she asked, turning to look at him.

"Please Ms. Johnson, don't make me ask you again," he demanded, his hand held out, waiting. "Or should I say Ms. Williams?" Shocked, Amie held out her purse. Bartholomew pulled it from her grasp and opened it. He dug through it for a moment until he found her cell phone. He took it out and put it in his pocket. "I don't think you'll be needing this. I don't want you calling the Winchester brothers to come to your rescue."

"How did you find out?" she asked calmly.

"Oh, a little birdy told me," Bartholomew replied with a grin on his face. "You're lucky I want you alive or you would be dead by now. Why don't you make yourself comfortable? I don't think we'll have time to deal with you until after the fundraiser."

"Why do you want me alive?" she inquired. "Why not just kill me and get it over with?"

"Because I need your body," he stated matter-of-factly.

Amie's mouth dropped open at his words. Coming from an angel that could only mean one thing. He needed her as a vessel.

"What, surprised? You shouldn't be. Hunters actually make fantastic vessels, all that self-righteous need to do good, the mental preparedness, the things that make you what you are make you good vessels. I'll be back later," Bartholomew said as he opened another door in the office and stepped through it. "Don't cause any trouble," he told her as he leaned in to grab the door and pull it shut.

Amie took off her coat and hung it on a chair. She headed directly for the door that Bartholomew had just gone through. It was, of course, locked. She leaned against it, hoping she could hear something.

"Bartholomew, you have to let her go. She is not meant to be a vessel. She is meant for something else, something far more important. You must let her go." Amie stepped back from the door slightly. That voice belonged to Katarina. She put her ear back to the door.

"What do you mean, she is meant for something else?" she heard Bartholomew ask.

"I saw it, the first time I healed her. I'm not sure exactly what it is, but whatever it is, it is not for us to change. If she is used as a vessel, it will alter the plan, change everything. That is not for us to do." Amie could swear it sounded as if Katarina was crying.

What the hell was she talking about? She couldn't possibly be talking about her, could she? Amie stepped back from the door, confused.

She heard a choking sound from behind the door, followed by a gasp. She saw a brief flash of light from behind the door, then it went black. Seconds later, another door slammed in the room.

Amie crossed to the window and looked out, hoping to see the Impala parked on the street. Instead she saw a dank, dimly lit alley. She hoped Dean was somewhere close by.

The desk across the room had a phone on it. She was sure it wouldn't work, but she tried it anyway. Dead. She started digging through the drawers, looking for anything she could use. She finally found a wooden handled silver letter opener in the middle drawer. Perfect. She took it to the door between the rooms and shoved it between the doorjamb and the door, took off her shoe and smacked it against the handle of the letter opener. The door popped open.

Amie counted to thirty. When she didn't hear anything and no one came through the hallway door, she put her shoe back on and slid into the room.

The room was lit by a small lamp in the corner. Katarina was duct-taped to a chair against the wall. Amie hurried over to her. She appeared to be alive, but unconscious. She was also beat to shit, which Amie hadn't thought possible. Angels couldn't be hurt.

First thing was first though. Amie swung in a circle, looking for anything she could use to contact Dean. There was no phone, but there was a computer, humming quietly. She sat at the desk and accessed the internet. She logged into her cell provider's website, pulled up the text messaging feature and typed in Dean's number.

"It's Amie. Phone taken, using computer. Third floor of church, find alley in back. Katarina here, hurt. Honk when you are in place." She clicked send, praying it worked.

"Alright Katarina, time to wake up," she muttered as she crossed the room to the angel. She used the letter opener to cut the duct tape on Katarina's arms and legs, before crouching in front of her. She shook the angel's leg. "Katarina, wake up. Katarina?"

She came to slowly, a confused look on her face. "Amie? Are you still you?" she asked.

"Yep, still me," she replied. "For now anyway. What the hell happened to you?"

Katarina sat up in the chair, her head in her hands. "Bartholomew found out I knew where Castiel was. When he was attempting to…persuade me to tell him his location, I told him about the spell. And you. He decided that rather than find Castiel, he would create his own fallen angel."

"What do you mean?" Amie asked, though she was pretty sure she knew the answer. "You? He took your grace?"

Katarina could only nod. Amie wasn't sure what to say, she'd never had to comfort an angel before, let alone a fallen angel. But just as she was going to try, she heard the distant honking of a horn.

"That's Dean," she said as she crossed to the window. She looked out and saw the familiar shape of Dean's beloved car parked in the alley behind the church. Just like she'd told him. She unlocked the window, looking over her shoulder to see if Katarina was moving. The now former angel was crossing the room to join Amie.

Amie pushed the window up as far as it would go and leaned out. She could see Dean standing by the trunk of the car. She called his name as quietly as she could until he looked up at her. When they made eye contact, relief washed over his face. She totally understood, she wasn't sure she'd ever been more relieved to see him either.

"Stay there," he mouthed. She watched him and Sam make their way toward a door just below the windows. Dean crouched in front of it, obviously picking the lock. She stepped back and closed the window. She paced the room nervously while she waited.

Within ten minutes, Amie saw a flash of light under the door to the hallway, then it crashed open, Dean's footprint in the middle of it.

"Subtle," she said as she crossed the room to his waiting arms. She threw her arms around him, letting him lift her off of the floor with one arm as he kissed her.

"Hey baby," he said. "You ready to go?"

"Hell, yeah," she mumbled. "More than ready. Katarina comes with us, I'll explain later."

Dean nodded and took Amie's hand, putting her behind him. Katarina followed her, with Sam at the back. They moved rapidly through the building, until they reached the classroom she'd seen earlier. The lights came on just as they entered the room.

Two rather large men stood in front of them, blocking their route out of the building. One of them stepped forward. "I'm sorry but I can't let you leave. Please come with me," he said calmly.

"A polite angel? That's a new one. Most of the angels I've met have been dicks," Dean said as he rushed the angel, knocking him to the ground.

Taking his cue from his brother, Sam launched himself at the other angel. They hit a table, breaking it and sending chairs flying. Dean stood up, only to be thrown back to the ground, his blade flying out of his hand. The angel he was fighting ran toward Amie, but before he could grab her, she brought her leg up in a roundhouse kick, hitting him directly in the face, her heel gouging his eye. He hit the floor immediately, hand covering his face. Dean was on his feet in an instant, scooping up his angel blade as he ran across the room to stab the angel. Amie covered her eyes as the angel's death caused the room to fill with light. Dean swung around and ran to help Sam, blade raised.

Amie felt arms close around her from behind. She immediately brought her foot up and drove it into the top of the foot of whoever had grabbed her. When one of the arms fell away, she took the opportunity to pull her skirt up and slide the angel blade from the holster on her thigh. Without turning around, she drove it backward as hard as she could into the chest of the angel holding her. White light surrounded her. She fell backward, toppling to the ground as the angel she had just killed collapsed. As she fell, she saw another flash of light from the other side of the room.

Amie tried to stand up, but the heel of her shoe was literally embedded more than an inch in the top of the dead angel's foot. By the time she slipped both shoes off, Dean was standing in front of her with his hand out to help her up.

"Nice work," he grinned as he pulled her to her feet. "You and your damn shoes."

"You have to admit that they do come in handy at times," she retorted. "I'm gonna miss this pair."

"Hurry, before someone else comes. We need to get out of here," Dean ordered.

Amie dropped Dean's hand and ran across the room to Katarina. She was standing in a corner, tears running down her face. Amie took her hand and pulled her from the corner. "Come on, let's go," she said. They needed to move, the former angel would have to process this later.

Katarina nodded and followed Amie as she carefully stepped through the debris from the broken table. Dean and Sam were waiting at a side door that she guessed exited into the alley. She pushed Katarina through the door ahead of her and they both ran for the Impala.

Amie saw Castiel step from the car, his face shocked at the sight of Katarina. When they got to the car, he pushed her into the back seat then ducked in behind her. Amie yanked open the front door and nearly dove in, Dean behind her. He started the car and was already moving when Sam slammed the passenger side door, yelling "Go, go," as he did. Amie looked over her shoulder to see several more angels including Bartholomew running down the sidewalk toward them. Dean hit the gas and pulled out of the alley, tires squealing as he swung around a corner and accelerated away from Reverend Boyle's church.


	38. Chapter 38

**Chapter Thirty-Eight**

Dean didn't stop until they were nearly to Kansas City. Then he had no choice; the Impala was practically running on fumes. He maneuvered the car into the first roadside gas station he saw and parked at the gas tanks.

Amie was cuddled up next to him, tightly holding his hand. He kissed the top of her head, grateful she was back beside him where she belonged.

"Hi," she said, smiling up at him.

"Hey baby," he said. He grasped her chin between his thumb and forefinger and gently kissed her. He didn't care that everyone in the car was watching them.

Dean climbed out of the car, the cold air shocking him. He hurried to start the gas pump so he could get back in the warm car. Castiel and Sam stepped out as well, both of them hunched in their jackets. Sam went inside, while Castiel stepped around to the back of the car and stood next to Dean.

"Dean, I would like you to take Katarina and me to a bus station in Kansas City. I think it would be best if she and I go our own way," he explained.

Dean shook his head. "Are you nuts? Why would I do that? You guys can come back to the bunker. You'll be safe there."

"Maybe," Castiel replied. "Maybe not. She needs time to adjust to being a human. She's scared. And she's really scared of you."

"Of me?" Dean said, though he wasn't surprised. He hadn't made a secret of his dislike for Katarina. "Okay, I guess I get that. But things are different now…."

"Yes," Cas interrupted. "But it doesn't matter. That does not change her feelings. She does not want to stay near you. I cannot convince her otherwise. I want to help her. Can you understand, Dean?"

Dean nodded. He understood. "Okay Castiel, whatever you want. I'll take you to the bus station, get you guys on your way. Where will you go?"

"I have an idea, but I would like to keep it to myself for now," Castiel replied. "And thank you." He slid back into the car and leaned over to whisper in Katarina's ear. She nodded, then Cas stepped back out of the car and went into the store.

Dean watched Amie and Katarina through the back window. Amie was talking to her, her eyebrows furrowed, her expression serious. Katarina shook her head and said something, gesturing with her hands. Amie seemed to slump in her seat, her eyes downcast, her face worried.

Once the Impala's tank was full, Dean hurried around to the driver's side and got back in the car. He grabbed Amie's hand, squeezing it briefly. "What's wrong, baby?" he asked.

She wouldn't answer him, just shook her head and said "Not now."

He glanced at Katarina in the rearview mirror; she wouldn't look at him. He was about to question her when Sam and Castiel returned to the car, coffees in hand.

Instead he started the car and pulled back onto the road. It was twenty minutes to Kansas City and the bus station.

* * *

Dean finished the bowl of cereal he had poured himself. He washed his bowl and spoon, turning them upside down in the sink. He dried his hands off on the dish towel and grabbed two bottles of beer from the refrigerator. He turned the light off as he left the kitchen. He went through the library on his way back to his room.

"Hey you two, shouldn't you get some sleep?" he stopped and asked Sam and Kevin as he passed them in the library.

Sam looked up from the books spread around him and stretched, his long arms practically touching the bookcase on the wall behind him. "Maybe later. I think I'm close to finding something about what Katarina said about Amie." He flipped through one of the books on the table. "How is she?"

"She's understandably freaking out, though you wouldn't know it looking at her or talking to her. She wants to know what the hell is going on," Dean responded. "She'll be okay though, she always is. And you two will figure out what's going on, right?"

"Yeah, sure," Sam answered, his attention back on the books. Kevin just nodded.

Dean muttered his thanks, though he didn't think either of them heard him. He hurried down the hall to his room, anxious to get back to Amie.

Dean stopped in his doorway, his eyes drawn to her. She was sprawled across his bed on her stomach, wearing only a pair of short spandex shorts and a tank top. His eyes crawled up her body—her long legs, her perfectly shaped ass and small waist. She'd put her long red hair in a braid that hung down her back, but some of it was loose and hanging around her face. She must have sensed him watching her, because her head came up and she looked over her shoulder. He smiled when they made eye contact.

He held up the beers. "I thought it would help you relax. I know you've been a little on edge, so…," he shrugged, not sure how to finish the sentence.

"You know what, why don't _you_ come help me relax?" she said to him, smiling. For the first time in a while the smile reached her eyes.

Dean pushed his door closed, set the beers on the table and crossed the room to his bed. He quickly stripped down to his boxers and settled in next to Amie. He easily lifted her up and laid her on top of him. He ran his hands up and down her back, kneading her tense muscles with his fingers. He gently kissed her neck and her shoulder, sliding his lips across her collarbone and up the other side of her neck until he reached her jaw. He pushed the loose hair from her face before lightly grazing her lips with his. He wrapped his arms around her waist and hugged her as close to him as possible.

"You okay?" Dean asked quietly. He took her braid in his hand and played with it, wrapping it around his palm.

Amie nodded, her hair tickling his chin as she moved. "I'm good."

"Really? You're not just saying that to shut me up?" he said.

"Maybe," she responded, laughing low in her throat. She looked up at him, her blue eyes shining. "I have to be, don't I? Since we have no idea what any of this means, I have to be okay. I can't dwell on it or worry about it. It won't do any good. I'll worry about it if and when I need to."

Dean bent down and kissed her. "And that's why I love you," he murmured.

He wasn't quite prepared for the intensity with which Amie returned the kiss. She took his face in her hands and pressed herself against him, her hips resting between his legs. She seemed almost desperate to be close to him.

"I love you, Dean," she whispered. "I want you. Make love to me."

She didn't have to ask him twice. He ran his hands up her sides under her tank top, pulling it over her head and tossing it aside. He caressed the soft skin on her back, feeling goose bumps rising on her flesh as he touched her. He kissed her slowly, his tongue tracing the outline of her lips before gently entering her mouth. Dean slid his hands down her sides before cupping her bottom and pulling her tight against his growing erection.

Amie sighed, curling her fingers into his hair, returning his kisses with fervor. Dean turned on his side, sliding her under him. He turned his attention to her neck, sliding his tongue down the scar left by the werewolf before sucking and biting the sensitive area at the hollow above her collarbone. She responded by arching into him, moaning his name. The sound of his name falling from her lips just increased his excitement. He hastily pushed off her shorts and underwear and then pulled off his own.

Dean needed to touch her, every part of her. Without hesitating, he slipped two fingers inside her, drawing her tight against him as he did. Amie threw her head back, her nails digging into his biceps. Dean's mouth found her breast, his tongue swirling around the nipple. His lips and tongue moved everywhere across her body as his fingers teased and tantalized her, making her squirm. Each time he thought she was close to an orgasm, he slowed his movements, kissing her carefully, almost leisurely, drawing it out, making it last. Over and over he took her to the edge, but he wouldn't quite let her go, until she was gasping his name in ecstasy.

Eventually Dean couldn't wait any longer. He wrapped Amie's leg around his waist and entered her gently. He took his time, savoring every second of their connection. They moved together, their bodies' perfectly in sync, pleasure weaving its way through every part of their lovemaking. When Dean felt Amie's orgasm building, her muscles tightening around him, he let himself go, his face buried in her neck.

* * *

Dean was sitting on the floor digging through a box, Amie asleep on the bed behind him, when there was a soft knock on his door. He got up, pulled on a pair of jeans and opened it before whoever was knocking woke her up.

"You got a minute?" Sam asked. "I need to talk to you."

"Is it important? I'm kind of busy." He looked over his shoulder at Amie, then at the box on the floor. "Hey, you haven't seen Mom's ring have you? I can't find it."

"Umm, no I haven't seen it. Sorry." Sam looked startled but quickly composed himself. "Anyway…yeah, it's important."

Dean stepped out and pulled the door closed behind him. "What is it?" he inquired.

"Kevin found something," Sam answered. "I think you need to come hear what it is."

Dean followed Sam down the hall to the library. Ever since Amie had told them what Katarina had said, worry had constantly been at the back of his mind. Angels never had anything good to say. They were cryptic and unpredictable. They twisted their words, saying one thing but meaning another. So whatever Katarina had been talking about, it couldn't be good. And based on the way Sam was acting, Kevin hadn't found anything to make him believe any different.

Kevin was sitting at the library table, a small, very old book open in front of him. Dean sat down across from him and Sam sat next to him.

"Alright, Kev, what'd you find?" Dean asked.

"Okay, it wasn't easy, but I found something in this book." He gestured to the small book. "It's really old and filled with different stories and lore about angels and demons. I had to weed through a lot of crap and it wasn't in English. Some of it was ancient Greek, Latin, Hebrew, even Enochian. I found one story about a prophecy." Kevin stopped, looking at Dean nervously.

"A prophecy?" Dean asked. His nerves were on edge and Kevin was taking too damn long to get to the point.

Kevin swallowed and Dean could see sweat gathering on his brow. "Yeah, a prophecy," he continued. "From what I can ascertain, it's about two hunters, forged from heartache, inevitably drawn together by love's arrow, to create the greatest paradox the angels and demons have ever seen. There's some other stuff in there that I'm still working on, but that's the gist of it."

"_Two_ hunters?" Dean asked. He looked between Sam and Kevin.

Sam tried to explain. "Based on what the entire prophecy says, we think it could mean you and Amie. Two hunters, forged from heartache. You became a hunter because of Dad—his heartache. Amie became a hunter because of the death of her husband and son. That's her heartache." He shrugged and Dean thought he looked uncomfortable. "We don't know what the paradox is yet, or how it's supposedly created. We're still working on that."

"Well, that could be about anybody…." Dean started to say.

"I don't think so," Sam stopped him before he could finish. "Do you know of any other hunters that are together? That are in love? You know you almost never see that. You and Amie are the only two hunters I know that are in love. And with what Katarina said, well, it makes a certain amount of sense."

Dean ran his hands through his hair and over his face, trying to absorb everything Sam and Kevin were telling him. His mind kept circling it and circling it, trying to make sense of the prophecy, to understand what he was being told.

"Wait," he said. "Did you say that the prophecy said that the hunters were 'inevitably drawn together'? As in, it had to happen, it was unavoidable? Are you sure that's what it said?" Dean swallowed nervously. He didn't like where this was going.

Kevin bent over the book, his finger skimming the pages as he translated. He finished and then read it again. After reading it the second time, he looked up at Dean and nodded. "Yeah, it definitely says that the hunters are drawn to each other, their feelings inescapable and that they are meant to be. 'By love's arrow' would mean by a cupid's arrow, wouldn't it?"

Dean stood up and shoved his chair in so hard and fast that the huge table shook. "A cupid brought us together? We were meant to be? As in 'no other choice but to be together'? Are you fucking kidding me?" he spat out.

"Dean, what's wrong?" Sam asked. Dean could hear the concern in his voice.

"What's wrong is that I am tired of the goddamned angels and God or whoever deciding my life for me! Now they're taking this from me too?" he yelled.

Sam was shaking his head. "I don't understand what you mean…."

Dean struggled to get the words out, the pain of his realization tearing him apart. "None of this is real. How I feel about Amie, the love I think I feel for her, it's just another game the angels are playing. How can I really love her? How is anything I feel or anything I believe real when some prophecy says that we're meant to be? That it's 'inescapable and unavoidable'. We're together because of a cupid. It's a lie. All of it. Just one big lie." He turned and stormed out of the room before anyone could see the tears on his face. He could hear Sam calling his name.

He tore down the hall, intent on getting away from the thoughts running through his head. He burst through his bedroom door, startling Amie awake. She sat up in the bed, fear and confusion on her face.

"Dean? What's wrong?" she asked, still half asleep.

All he could do was shake his head. He couldn't even talk to her, let alone look at her. It nearly tore his heart out, knowing that what he felt for her was a lie. He quickly grabbed a shirt, his jacket, boots and car keys, turned back around and left the room. He saw Amie out of the corner of his eye as she got out of the bed, yelling at him to wait. He broke into a run, sprinting to the garage, pulling his shirt on as he ran. He yanked open the Impala's door, holding it for balance as he hurried to put on his boots. He slid in behind the wheel, started the car and pulled out. The last thing Dean saw as he drove out of the bunker was Amie standing in the middle of the garage, her eyes wide in shock and bewilderment.

**The End**

* * *

**_Author's Note: _**_Okay, if you've stuck with me thus far, DON'T PANIC! I will be continuing the story of Dean and Amie. I have what I think is a really great idea and I'm working on a simple outline to get it laid out. I have to do some rearranging after the mid-season finale of season 9 so I can stick semi-close to the storyline. I'm hoping to get the first few chapters up sometime in the next couple of weeks. And I do have a title for it: __Meant to Be__. So please be patient! I think it will be worth it!_


End file.
